The Sea and the Siblings
by Capegio
Summary: Four years into the Golden Age, rumors circulate that the Witch's army is assembling again. The Pevensies go to investigate together.
1. One

I don't own the Pevensies or Narnia. I only pretend to in order to appease my need for flattery.

**_The Sea and the Siblings_**

It was midday, and the warm Narnian sunlight played upon the red royal sails of a small ship, anchored at the end of a long dock. Glittering cerulean waves lapped at its prow as the voices of a large crowd pealed joyfully through the lazy summer air. Aboard, the crew was making the final preparations for its voyage – checking provisions, tightening knots, straightening bunks, loading personal belongings and any number of other miscellaneous jobs. The banner of Cair Paravel flapped merrily atop the highest mast.

Ashore, the four rulers of Narnia wore smiles as they bid farewell to their subjects and friends. Lucy the Valiant, now approaching thirteen, shook the hand of her dear Tumnus, face nearly splitting with an infectious grin. She stood on her tiptoes and threw her arms around him in an enormous hug. The faun smiled just as broadly, eyes brimming with overwhelming excitement and a fair bit of worry, then bent to bring his face level with hers and said affectionately,

"You be careful, Lucy Pevensie." She trilled a short, happy laugh and took his hand in her own.

"Don't be silly, Mr. Tumnus," she said. "I'll only be gone for a short while, and Peter said the rumors were probably only rumors. There's nothing to worry about."

"All the same," he replied, dabbing his eyes with her handkerchief. "It should be ever so horrible if anything were to happen to you. You are, after all, the most wonderful little girl I have ever met."

"And you are still the most fantastic faun I know," she said cheekily. At that moment, there came a great fanfare of trumpets and the excited chatter of the masses died away. A centaur, powerful and graceful, stepped atop the edge of the dock and spoke in a loud voice.

"We bid safe return to the four monarchs of Narnia, and wish them well in their investigation in the Northlands," he proclaimed. Then he raised his right arm and the crowd exclaimed as one,

"Long live Queen Lucy! Long live King Edmund! Long live Queen Susan! Long live King Peter!"

Quickly kissing Tumnus on the cheek, Lucy picked up her skirts and hurried to the front of the assembly where her brothers and sister waited, looking regal and dignified. She felt a surge of pride to be part of such a family. Edmund turned to her as she approached, offering a fleeting smile as his dark, somber eyes scanned the crowd restlessly. He had become quieter since Beruna; wiser, older, more mature somehow. Now, as he gazed out over the people whose trust he had worked so hard to earn, he seemed much beyond his fourteen years. His younger sister returned the smile and went to stand beside him, glowing with anticipation.

"Well?" Susan said, turning to the dock, and the moored ship. "Shall we?"

"Can't see why not," replied Peter. He offered her his arm with an elaborately dramatic gesture. She laughed and shoved him gently before proceeding to lead the way down the pier, her deep purple dress skimming the sea-worn wood elegantly. Her siblings followed. Echoing across the beach came the cheering of their beloved people, Aslan's people, people of Narnia. There was an acute sense of adventure in the air. Perhaps it was the sea-spray that sent something leaping in Lucy's stomach, or maybe it was the thrill of seeing the inspired young monarchs setting off on their first real quest that brought the ripple of exhilaration shuddering through their subjects. It could even have been fear. After all, the rumors were inarguably frightening – if the remains of the Witch's army were indeed rallying, as some creatures had reported, the cause must be found and destroyed. It was only mercy that had prevented Peter from eradicating them completely and he would have hated to see such a decision proved as misjudgment.

Susan's booted foot touched the polished deck of their vessel a moment later. She swept to one side, fingers coming to rest on the railing as her brothers and sister boarded in turn. As one, the family looked back at the considerable throng on the shore and lifted their hands in salute, crowns glinting in the noon sun.

"Majesties."

The four turned to find the entire crew standing before them, dressed smartly in their uniforms and the captain at their head. He was a tall, broad fellow with a candid face and a nautical twinkle in his eye. He offered them a respectful grin, bowing.

"We are ready to set sail whenever you feel fit," he said.

"Then let us depart," said Lucy eagerly.

"If it is milady's wish, it will happen."

He nodded to the sailors, who scattered purposefully, some to disappear below deck and others to find posts above. He himself strode forward to grasp the edge of the gangplank, which rested on the edge of the ship, and with a mighty heave and a pull from two Talking Beasts on the dock below, it toppled away from the craft with a satisfying _crack_. The Pevensies stood by, watching, as the anchor burst forth from the water and set them free, the ship giving a rocking little shudder as it was released. Then there was the sound of the wind rushing into the freshly unfurled sails. A moment of pregnant, expectant inaction followed, the monarchs holding their breath, and then with a mighty groan, the ship revolved slightly and plowed out into the sea with a will.

Lucy glanced at Edmund, whose lips had curled into a content smile, then returned her watch to the brilliantly blue waters. A small tremor shook her body. _They were off._


	2. Two

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. It just makes me very happy to write about them.

* * *

Two days later, Lucy was surprised (and a little disappointed) to find that nothing dangerous or exciting had taken place. She had fairly expected to be attacked by pirates or rogue mermen or at least _something _early on, but instead there had only been fair weather, calm seas, and easy sailing. She stood by the bowsprit, fresh ocean air tickling her face, leaning against the sturdy railing and wondering how long it would take to reach the North Coast her brother had spoken of. Her mind wandered. Four year had passed since their coronation. It had been a lovely dream at first, full of ceremonies and balls and beautiful places to visit, not to mention the number of fascinating people and creatures she had met. Then it had settled in her that it was real, though it never became mundane. She understood that Narnia was real and that she was not dreaming. It didn't make it any less wonderful.

Lucy looked sideways as the deck creaked and Peter came to rest beside her, leaning on his elbows and staring out to sea. There was nothing to see but blue. She waited for a moment, expecting him to say something, but he was silent. Her own gaze returned to the ocean. Frowning, Lucy couldn't help but feel that she had never shared a more awkward moment with her brother; what made it feel that way she couldn't determine either. She opened her mouth to say something, closed it, and rubbed her hands together anxiously. Finally he cleared his throat.

"Lu?" he asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"Are you excited?"

This seemed a most peculiar question. Firstly, of course she was excited. It was the first real adventure they had set out on since before the Battle of Beruna, and the first one they'd headed into willingly. Secondly, to Lucy, everything was exciting. It was part of who she was. Then of course there was the spontaneity of the query. She didn't answer for a moment.

"Yes," she said finally, not keeping the bewilderment out of her voice. He gave a small chuckle.

"Of course you are," he said. "Who wouldn't be?" But she got the feeling there was something else he wanted to say, so she waited patiently. The ship rocked gently beneath their feet.

"It could be dangerous." Peter spoke offhandedly. Lucy looked at him.

"I'm not scared, if that's what you're thinking."

"No, I wasn't worried about that," he said with a smile. "It's…it's hard, sometimes, for me to accept that you can take care of yourself. I have to keep telling myself that you're old enough to be off gallivanting like this, that I wasn't much older when we first came here. I know you don't need me much anymore, Lu, but I just wanted to let you know that you're never too old to ask for help, so if you ever need me, I'm here."

"I'll keep that in mind," she replied. She wasn't really sure why he was telling her this. There was the feeling that he was having regrets about taking her along.

"Love you like a sister, Lucy," he said as he looked back over the ocean.

"I _am _your sister, silly," she laughed.

"Well, that's the point, isn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it is."

There followed another long silence, but this one was comfortable. Lucy fingered the dagger on her belt. She had never really had a reason to use it; in the archery range she was capable of throwing it with alarming accuracy, and she had on occasion applied it to a picnic meal or something equally trivial, but not once had she made use of its intended property. The thought of it made her feel rather queasy and of the two gifts, she much preferred the cordial.

A loud banging noise yanked Lucy from her daydream. She and Peter turned to look behind them, where a door had just been flung open by their sister.

"Come on, you two!" Susan called. "Lunch!"

"Yes, Mum!" Lucy called back, grinning. She and Peter laughed at Susan's indignant face, then crossed the deck and entered the galley together. Inside, a large pot of stew bubbled furiously above a blazing fire. A few sailors were singing loudly as they passed bowls and spoons throughout the room, their booming voices rising above the happy chatter that filled the ship's kitchen and dining room. Lucy smiled and then laughed as she heard the last bit of their song.

"_So sail away with us, my lad,_

_The sailor's life with thrill you,_

_And though the sea can cruel be,_

_The grub's the thing that kills you!"_

The youngest of the Pevensies had to disagree with this as the salty scent of the stew reached her. Something that smelled so good could not possibly taste so bad. Reaching out to accept a bowl and spoon from one of the singing men, she found a place in the line that had formed behind the stew pot. On the first day, the sailors had tried to make the four rulers stand first in line, but as Edmund (aptly titled the Just) had pointed out, those really working should be served first.

Presently Lucy stood in front of the great bubbling cauldron and held out her bowl, which was then filled with a thick, rich broth. She voiced her thanks to the cook, a plump, rosy-cheeked man, and hurried off to where Susan and Edmund sat on one of the long wooden benches, chatting amicably as they ate. Lucy set down her bowl, took a seat next to her sister and joined in with a will.

"It's really not bad at all so far," Susan was saying. "I was expecting to feel rather awful at first, due to the ship's rocking and such, but I haven't been bothered in the slightest. And of course the sailors are such an agreeable lot."

"True," Edmund agreed. "They showed me how to climb up to the crow's nest, and how to tie quite a few interesting knots that could come in useful."

"Oh, Ed, how is it way up there? Is it scary? Can you see forever?" Lucy asked excitedly. She had looked up at the crow's nest several times before, wondering what it would be like to be so high up.

"Not forever, but far, yes. And it _is _scary, because what feels like the tiniest pitch down here is a frightfully wide sway up there. I would hate to be up there in bad weather."

"I don't think I'd like to be up there at all," said Susan with a nervous laugh.

"No, I don't think you would," conceded Edmund. He moved to make room for Peter, who had just arrived at the table with his own meal. The eldest of the children, though it was not quite fair to call them children anymore, wore an expression of mild worry. Susan, as usual, was first to notice.

"What's wrong, Peter?" she asked. He looked up.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just thinking."

"About?"

"This and that. Mainly the rumors," he said.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Susan replied, and reached over to pat his arm reassuringly. Her brother smiled but did not reply. Lucy met Edmund's eyes. Both knew that something was troubling their brother, and that he would not easily divulge it. This was one of the problems with Peter – he tended to bear his problems alone, and would not ask for help. The conversation continued idly and the topic did not arise again. Scraping the last bit of soup from her bowl, Lucy rose from the table and excused herself to go outside, where she returned to the bowsprit and thought about things. Her earlier conversation with Peter, and the worry that he attempted to hide from all of them, both of them pointed to something he knew. Something that he wasn't willing to share with them. And this, more than anything, worried Lucy, because there was nothing she felt she could not speak to her brother about and it was quite unsettling to think that there was something for which he did not feel the same.


	3. Three

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just write about them to ease the loneliness I feel when I listen to the soundtrack.

* * *

Lucy awoke the next morning to the screeching cries of gulls. Rolling out of the hammock, she slipped her feet into the slippers that waited there and rubbed her eyes blearily. It was a very cramped cabin. She and Susan shared it, and as such there were only two hammocks inside, with the door to the hallway between them. Its only window was a small, round portal of thick glass that usually rested just above the water, but whenever the ship gave a more aggressive pitch it dipped beneath the water and bathed the little room in an eerie blue light. The only other thing worth noting was the little closet built into the wall, which Lucy now reached out to open.

The sea journey was expected to last a little more than a week, ending at the mouth of the Cappis River, a ways north of the river Shribble. From there, they would walk on foot until they reached North Ettinsmoor and the land rumored to be the new rallying point. Because of this, Lucy and her sister had brought an unusual array of clothing – each had the gown they'd worn the day they had departed from Cair Paravel, and several much simpler dresses of plain cotton to wear for the days at sea and on foot, but also a long shirt of dwarf-wrought mail and various other pieces of battle equipment. Neither had bothered to bring any footwear besides sturdy walking boots, and their crowns hung on hooks embedded in the wooden closet.

Lucy pulled one of the cotton dresses from the closet and slipped out of her dressing gown. She tugged the garment over her head and straightened it, tying it with the belt that held her cordial and dagger, then laced up her boots and pushed the door open. The hallway, dimly lit with enchanted fire, was deserted, so she proceeded up the stairs and out onto the deck. The sun was just barely suspended above the water in the distance. Pink remnants of its rising still lingered, reflecting off the ocean, creating a picture certainly worth painting.

"Pretty, isn't it?" came a voice from behind her. Lucy jumped and turned quickly. A young man, probably a few years Peter's senior, grinned down at her from his perch on the edge of the upper deck. She recognized him as one of the singing men from the day before and smiled warmly at him.

"Yes, it is," she replied, and looked back at the scene.

"But you'll notice something else, Majesty," he said. He pointed east of the fading sunrise, her gaze following his finger. "Storm clouds."

And right he was. Dark and ominous, the clouds looked far away, but still sent a shiver of fear (or was it excitement?) down Lucy's spine. Their little ship was clean and well-kept, but it was small and seemed a bit like an oversized toy when she compared it to the enormous galleys and barges of the foreign dignitaries that had visited in the earlier years of her reign. She had doubts about how well it could stand harsher weather. The sailor, seeming to read her mind, dropped his arm to his side and shrugged dismissively.

"Don't fret about it, my Queen," he said. "Captain Parry's sailed through far worse."

"Have _you_?" she asked. He shook his head and smiled.

"No, I've been lucky so far. I expect it will be frightening." Lucy glanced at the horizon again.

"How long do you think it will be?"

"I'd give it 'till sunset," he replied. "But now I'd better go rouse my crewmates, it's getting time to eat. Excuse me, your Majesty." And he rose, untangling his long legs from the railing bars and walking over to the ladder that stretched between the two decks, then descending it and stooping to duck down into the hallway Lucy had come from earlier.

"Excuse me, sir!" she called after him, and he looked back up. "What is your name?" The young man chuckled.

"You ask many questions, my Lady. My name is Thomas."

_Thomas and Tumnus, _she thought for no reason at all as he disappeared into the hallway.

Breakfast was a casual affair at sea, a bowl of porridge and a cup of fresh water to whoever wandered into the galley early enough. Lucy happened to be one of these and she took her food outside, for the morning was already getting warm and the kitchen was becoming oppressively hot. She settled against the wall that divided the upper and lower decks. Abruptly, she became aware of two hushed voices carried over to her on the ocean breeze, and identified them instantly as Peter and Susan. Lucy put her bowl down and listened intently.

"I'm not stupid," Susan said emphatically. "Something is bothering you. You know something important and you don't want us to know. Well I do, Peter, and I…"

"It's _nothing,_" he insisted. "It doesn't concern you, it's my problem."

"Whether or not it concerns me I'm concerned," she countered.

"Must you be so nosy?"

"You can call it nosiness if you like. But by the Lion's mane, Peter, I'm your sister and I care about you. If something is worrying you, tell me. Maybe I can help."

There was a silence, and Lucy could imagine her two eldest siblings, glaring heatedly at one another. All the Pevensie children were strong-willed, but she placed her bet on Susan in this case. Peter listened to logic and Susan's argument was reasonable. Finally, Lucy heard him give a sigh and he spoke again, now sounding tired and even a bit dejected.

"I should have known this wouldn't get past you lot," he grumbled.

"You should have," Susan agreed, and waited for him to go on.

"Before the coronation, Aslan spoke to me," Peter began. "He said that even though Jadis had been defeated, not all evil was gone from the land. He said she was merely a symbol of that evil, and that destroying her would temporarily scatter the forces that answered to it. I asked him why we shouldn't then destroy all these creatures who remained loyal, and he spoke to me about mercy and forgiveness. It was because of this that I did not pursue all of the Witch's minions and purge them from Narnia."

Peter took a deep breath. "Aslan also told me something else. He told me that if they ever were to band together again, it would fall to me to defeat them, and that he could not offer aid again. And before you say so, I do know that my sword fighting is spoken of in countries I have never heard of. But I am still mortal, Susan. Sometimes I feel that people expect me to be some sort of savior, some sort of stand-in for Aslan, but you must understand that I am not. I have weaknesses and I'm afraid to die. I am afraid that if I fail, Narnia will fall back to what it was before we came. But most of all I'm afraid for you and Edmund and Lucy."

"Oh, Peter," Susan said, taken aback. "No one expects you to be Aslan. And you forget that these are rumors, not proven, and that should the need arise you have an army ready to battle with you. And, of course, you have us."

Lucy thought this a fitting time to voice her own support, and she left her breakfast there on the deck to scramble up the ladder and to the aft of the upper deck, where her brother and sister stood. Fairly flying over to them, she wrapped her arms around her startled brother and smiled up at him.

"Yes," she agreed. "You have us."

She had the most uncanny feeling that they were being watched, and on a whim turned her face up to the crow's nest. Sure enough, the dark-haired head of the final Pevensie was visible high above the rest. Lucy could not see his face, but she was sure that he was smiling.


	4. Four

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I only play with them like toys of my imagination.

* * *

Lucy could not say the storm struck at any one point. It was more gradual than that – an hour or so before sunset, the waves became a little more insistent, the rocking of the ship became a little more drastic, and the crew became more grim-faced and serious than she had seen them before. There was a certain crackling tension in the air that warned of the weather to come. Eventually, Lucy resigned to her cabin for fear of getting in the way of the sailors who had been checking knots and measurements all afternoon, and was soon joined by Susan, who looked decidedly green.

The two didn't speak, but instead sat in silence upon their hammocks as the room tipped back and forth. The window was now sinking below the water quite regularly, and the light was changing every few seconds. Every so often Lucy would raise her eyes and meet Susan's, and they would share a quiet moment of worry. But after about twenty minutes in which the air only got more stale and the pitching worse, Susan stood up with a look of pained resolution on her face.

"Oh, I can't stand it any longer. Let's go outside, it's better than being locked up in this sardine tin of a cabin," she said.

Lucy nodded and stood also, then followed her sister out into the hallway. They strode past the door to the sailor's quarters on one side, the captain's and their brothers' on the other, and made their way up through the staircase onto the deck. The clouds were nearly directly overhead now, swollen with moisture and promising worse than merely rain. With a shiver of apprehension, Lucy hurried forward to the prow and Edmund, who stood there. He was watching the froth-tipped waves with an expression much akin to the one he had worn whenever the air-raids were being carried out by the German pilots back in England.

"Hello, Lu," he said as she approached.

"Hello."

They stood shoulder to shoulder and waited for the storm to break. The wind was strengthening, gaining speed and curling around the numerous figures that dotted the ship's surface. It made the sails flap irritably, the red banner flying from the crow's nest ripple frenziedly and the skirts of the two Pevensie sisters billow about their ankles. The ocean now made little leaps and the vessel was rocking violently. Lucy gripped the railing for support and looked backwards. Susan stood by the staircase looking uneasy. She couldn't see Peter anywhere.

_Tip. Tap. _

Raindrops.

Then the clouds broke open and the rain poured down in great, pounding sheets, slamming into the deck and soaking everyone immediately. All at once, the ship gave a great lurch and Lucy felt her feet slipping on the wood, so she grabbed hold of Edmund's arm and they both went tumbling to the floor. The boat tilted dangerously to one side and they slid across it to crash into the railing on the other side of the deck in a tangle of limbs and confused shouts. A blinding flash of lightning shot through the dark sky. Thunder, deep and forceful, echoed off the now-raging ocean and added to the sudden cacophony of hammerering rain, bellowed instructions and frantic reports of the sailors as they attempted to keep the sails from tearing in the harsh wind.

"Lucy!" Edmund shouted over the noise, holding out his hand to her urgently. He had managed to stand. "Come on, we need to get below!"

She reached out to take his hand, but a towering wave crashed over the side of the ship, knocking him over and washing them further apart. She cried out his name fearfully, scrambling to stand on the slick deck. He was struggling to find something – anything – dry enough to grab hold of but there seemed nothing now that wouldn't slide from his grasp. Another wave rolled over, brutally shoving him into the railing on the prow and Edmund let out a yell of pain as he smashed up against it.

The vessel bucked in the frothing waters, the prow rising more than a meter above the surface and again, Lucy and Edmund found themselves skidding down uncontrollably. Lucy grabbed desperately at the edge of the staircase as she shot past it but it was beyond her reach. Flashes of dark sky and wet wood whizzed by her until another burst of lightning lit the scene and she felt a calloused hand close over her arm, pulling her to her feet. She looked up to see Thomas, who roughly pushed her towards the hole in the deck that was the staircase.

"Go!" he commanded. Lucy didn't need to be told. Scrambling to it, she practically threw herself down the stairs, heart hammering. _But Edmund! _Clinging tightly to the slightly drier underside of the staircase, she stuck her head up and looked frantically around for her older brother. She spotted him lying dazed about two meters away, probably after having slid painfully into the divide between the two decks.

"Ed!" she hollered. He looked up, eyes unfocused, and attempted to crawl towards her. Another swell bore the ship up again and he was sent flying towards his younger sister, who managed to get a fistful of his tunic and pulled him forcefully into the stairwell using his own momentum. They both hurtled into the hallway and lay there for a moment, gasping for air.

"Lu," Edmund finally managed. "Susan and Peter."

"I'm here," Susan's voice suddenly said. She was standing in the doorway of her cabin, looking dreadfully ill and shaken. Like them, she was soaked from head to foot.

"Peter?" Lucy asked, dragging herself into a sitting position. Susan shook her head hopelessly.

"He was up in the rigging, trying to help. He's on his own now. There's nothing we can do but pray."

Lucy felt her stomach quickly tie itself in a knot. What had possessed him? Her hand instinctively closed over the crystal bottle at her waist, her precious gift, the cordial that could heal any injury. But it couldn't heal death, and if Peter fell from the mast, he would die no matter where he landed. Another rumble of thunder shook the vessel harshly.

"There's nothing we can do," Susan repeated bleakly as Edmund glanced up at the stairwell, where rain still poured in and soaked the steps.

The three sat there in the dry hallway for what seemed like hours, listening to the pouring rain and the screams and shouts while the ship groaned and tossed, completely at the mercy of the elements. Worry nipped inside all of them as they avoided one another's eyes and silently pleaded for the safety of their comrades. Finally, Lucy curled up there on the wooden floor and fell into a fitful sleep. She would not awake until the storm had abated.


	5. Five

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just think about them when other people are discussing less interesting things.

**Author's Note: **I'm not feeling that this chapter is up to scratch - I'm sorry in advance for out of character-ness, but it's the downfall of everyone eventually. Read, enjoy, review, thank you.

* * *

"Lucy," Susan whispered gently, shaking her younger sister's shoulder. The sleeping girl's eyelids lifted a fraction. "Lucy, you're needed, come on now."

The insistency in Susan's voice prompted her to open her eyes fully and she became aware that she was in her hammock. Morning sunlight flecked the room with faint rainbows, the droplets of water upon the window acting as prisms. She gave a small grumble of irritability.

"We need your cordial, Lucy," Susan said. "If you won't come, then give it to me."

Suddenly, Lucy remembered the chaos of the night before, and she sat straight up, eyes wide with fright.

"Where's Peter? Is he…"

"Peter is in his cabin. He's not badly hurt," Susan reassured her with a smile that hid none of her own relief. Then her face darkened. "But some of the sailors need your help. It isn't pretty."

"Just a moment," Lucy replied, standing and pushing past her sister to open the closet. Her dress was still uncomfortably moist, she noticed, as she pulled the belt that held her cordial from its hook on the wall and fastened it about her waist. Her boots were still quite wet, so she left them on the floor. Susan had stepped into the hallway. She exited the room and followed her down to the door that led to the sailor's quarters, waiting as her sister knocked briefly, then entered.

The room the sailors all shared was a great deal larger than Lucy and Susan's, though the ceiling was equally low. Wooden posts were placed every so often, to hold the ends of hammocks that were hooked on the walls. Several of them were occupied by limp bodies with oddly bent legs or arms. Lucy hurried forward to the closest one, pulling her cordial from its holder and quickly undoing the top. The man within the hammock seemed to be asleep, so she quite nearly jumped when he opened his eyes to stare up at her in a sort of dull, agonized stupor.

"H…here," she stammered. "Drink this, it will make you feel better." She brought the cordial to his lips and tipped a drop of it into his mouth. He shuddered slightly, then clutched at his twisted arm frantically as the bones knitted themselves together all in a rush. Lucy hurried away from his hammock, Susan taking her place to calm the surprised sailor.

She repeated this process for the eight other men who had been injured in the storm, some by falls from the mast and others by flying debris. A few were alert enough to murmur thanks before falling asleep, and one man with a particularly bad break in his leg had actually wept with gratitude when she had healed him. A different girl Lucy's age might have been made sick by the smell of blood and the sight of bone erupting from flesh. But she had seen this much and worse before, on the battlefields of the war before her rule, and so she bore it all with a quiet determination far beyond her years.

When she was sure there was no one else in need of her potion, Lucy left the room and stood quietly in the hallway until Susan joined her, looking sobered and maternal.

"You never think of the wind that way when you're in a castle," she said reflectively. Lucy nodded in agreement, fidgeting ever so slightly.

"Susan?" she ventured.

"Yes?"

"Can I visit Peter?"

Her sister smiled warmly.

"Of course. He might be resting, though, and we shouldn't wake him. Shall we check?" she said. They crossed the hallway to the door of their brothers' cabin and she knocked lightly. There was the sound of someone getting up, and the door opened enough for Edmund to poke his head out. He raised a finger to his lips, then silently pushed the door all the way open and beckoned them inside. Their cabin was an identical match of the sisters' and as such there was very little room to be moving about in.

Peter was indeed resting, sleeping peacefully in his hammock. There were scratches on his arms and face, and a nastily dark, swollen bruise on his left temple, but other than that he seemed unharmed. His siblings quietly filed out to leave him in peace. Together, they carefully climbed the still wet staircase and onto the lower deck, the sky above deceptively blue and cloudless. Lucy gave a shiver.

Susan turned and looked towards the mast. Squinting, she examined it critically from top to bottom as her younger brother and sister followed her gaze. The thought Peter had been up there on the crossbeams while the ship bucked like a toy in a bath scared them more than they wanted to think about. But however crazy it had been, he had miraculously survived it somehow. This reminded Lucy of a question she had wanted to ask.

"What happened to his forehead?" she said. Edmund shrugged, but Susan, who seemed to know everything, replied.

"He cracked it against the mast." Strangely, an amused grin had spread across her face. Noticing the baffled looks of her siblings, she laughed a bit. "I suppose it wasn't so funny at the time. Actually, when they carried him down, I was terrified, I thought he was…well…you know. But no, they said he'd done a really superbly stupid bit of heroics and dove off the second sail beam after a crew member who'd lost his balance. He was tied to the mast at the time, else he'd have gone all the way down, but he likely saved the man's life. Unfortunately, he swung straight into the mast after that and dropped the poor bloke the rest of the way because he'd been knocked out cold."

Even Edmund had to grin bemusedly at that.

"I think he's overdoing his part just a bit," he commented.

"Well, you know Peter," said Susan. "He hasn't quite found this concept of _self _yet."

Lucy laughed and had to agree. And as she made her way to breakfast with them, she couldn't help but feel extraordinarily lucky to be a part of such a marvelous family.


	6. Six

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I only write about them in between movie viewings.

* * *

Lucy found herself spending much of her time with Thomas, dogging his footsteps and pestering him with all sorts of questions about the ship and how it worked. He didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, he would always laugh and smile and answer as best he could, sometimes admitting that he still had much to learn about it, other times going into such enthusiastic detail that he would seem no older than her. He was an extraordinarily good-natured companion; sometimes Lucy would wonder if the sea air made a person like that.

Edmund and Peter, recovered except for a few lingering scratches and a bit of dark discoloring on his temple, had begun to skirmish frequently since the deck had dried sufficiently. They would nimbly skip back and forth, swords clanging together, laughing and correcting one another until they collapsed in the sun, breathing hard but grinning happily. Susan, who often watched, would smile and shake her head, itching to practice her archery but aware that it was too risky with the strong winds of the ocean so near at hand. Precisely a week after they'd set off there came a shout from the crow's nest and they looked north to see the faint outline of rock formations in the distance.

Captain Parry emerged from the navigation room below the upper deck with an armful of maps. He strode to the railing quickly, alternately examining the horizon and the footnotes, running a finger across a diagram and apparently double-checking things. Finally he dropped his hands to his sides and turned back to them.

"Sirens," he remarked. He seemed preoccupied and a bit distressed. Lucy had a faint and unexplainable thought of a harsh sound, rising and falling in pitch, then a rush of adrenaline-fueled terror shot through her blood before ending just as abruptly. She could not think why. The captain continued and she quickly forgot.

"King Peter, King Edmund," Parry said. "Later today we will most likely reach the rocks you see ahead. Before then, probably just after lunch, you will need to retire to your cabins and not leave them until I send someone down to get you. Do you understand?"

Edmund shook his head in puzzlement. A bearded, tough-looking sailor who had been lounging against the rail stood up.

"Sirens, Majesty," he said in a deep bass voice. "Bird-women. They're the prettiest things you'll ever clap eyes on and they sing with such a lovely, lovely voice, so beautiful I've seen good men jump ship to try and reach the blasted creatures. You'd best stay below where you can't hear so well. Their song does strange things to folks at sea."

"What about all of you, then?" Edmund asked, still confused.

"We can't leave the ship unmanned, especially up ahead in those rocks," Parry answered. "We knew we'd be sailing into these waters and they're known siren territory, so we plug our ears with beeswax and rely on gestures for instructions. It's dangerous but not so much as listening to the sea witches' music." He nodded curtly to the four siblings and walked away across the deck to reenter the navigation room.

Edmund shrugged and turned back to his brother. Peter leaned back against the railing, one hand keeping his sword from slipping through and into the ocean.

"I hate to be cooped up in there for so long," he said, realizing that Ed was waiting for him to speak. "But I suppose it's better than falling prey to the sirens."

"True," said Susan. "Perhaps you'd also better plug your ears. If you hear their song from below you might be drawn out."

"I could stand outside your cabin and keep watch," Lucy offered. Her brothers shook their heads but thanked her anyway, and they all stood as the smell of lunch drifted out in the ocean breeze. Waving to their sisters, Edmund and Peter disappeared down the staircase to rid themselves of their swords. Susan and Lucy ambled to the galley and stepped inside.

"Stew," Lucy remarked, without much enthusiasm. It was quite difficult to cook a large amount of anything that did not come in an enormous pot at sea. The wonderful taste of the soups from the week had not changed much, but as such they had become rather mundane and Lucy had begun to miss the real, solid foods of Cair Paravel. She and Susan took bowls from the stack against the wall and took a place in line of tired-looking sailors. Most of the excitement she'd had at the beginning of the journey was gone now, replaced by the dull reality of a week without bathing and proper ground beneath her feet.

The cook removed the lid of the pot and the line began to move. Shuffling forward, Lucy stared idly at the knots in the wood of the ceiling and enjoyed the thought that tomorrow, she might be able to wiggle her feet into the rough sand of the riverbank and stare up at the boughs of the evergreens instead. Then it would only be two days until they finally approached North Ettinsmoor. There, the real adventure would begin, and Lucy felt a twinge of her earlier anticipation return. Unlike Peter, she was not worried at all – the army could be called up and the first few brigades would arrive within a matter of days, so what was all the fuss about?

"Lu?" Susan said, prodding her forward. The line had advanced during her daydreams. Lucy mumbled an apology and scurried to receive her soup, scanning the room for a brief second before sliding into a seat beside Thomas.

"Hello, your highness," he said after swallowing a mouthful of stew.

"Highness indeed, you're much taller and higher than me," Lucy retorted with a grin.

"Not for long the way you're growing," Susan replied smoothly, appearing next to the table. She lifted her skirts with one hand and sat across from them. Thomas nodded his black-haired head respectfully to the elder Queen.

The door swung open, sending a breath of cooler air through the galley, and Peter walked in, senza sword and shield. He waved to his sisters as he passed and was followed through the door by Edmund. Lucy couldn't help noticing that her oldest brother looked quite exhausted. When he sat beside Susan a minute later, he practically fell onto the wooden bench, eyelids drooping. She clucked disapprovingly and frowned even as her eyes smiled.

"It seems the High King needs a nap," she said. He opened his mouth, closed it and shrugged hopelessly.

"You're probably right," he admitted. "I'm still feeling a bit under the weather, and as long as I have to stay in the cabin I might as well."

"Well, you'll be a load of fun," said Edmund. He caught Peter's pained look and smiled slightly. "Only joshing. I'll think of something to do."

"I've never heard a siren," Thomas remarked abruptly. The four Pevensies turned their heads to look him. He seemed thoughtful, even curious, resting his head on his hand and returning their gazes earnestly. "This is only my third voyage."

Lucy had an odd feeling of unease as she finished her meal.


	7. Seven

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I only put them in dangerous situations in order to please you lot.

* * *

She looked out over the ship's railing. Her anxiety had not diminished at all, especially now that the rocks were so near and she could see them clearly. There was a space between them, big enough only for a fairly small ship to pass through, and granted her vessel fit that qualification, but she could see clearly that with any misjudgment they could be thrown up against the sides. Shifting from foot to foot, Lucy listened to the waves pushing against the hull and the cries of the gulls in the air. No one spoke. There was no point; every sailor had plugged his ears with beeswax and could not hear a thing, so Lucy and her sister were left standing together and keeping out of the way.

When they were about fifty meters off, the first siren appeared. Susan saw it first and pointed; it shot up from somewhere within the rocks and spread its enormous wings to glide over the ocean breeze towards them. Lucy watched it get closer and closer until it began to circle above the ship, occasionally beating its wings. It – for although the creature looked like a woman, it did not seem feminine at all – leered down at the sailors through brilliantly blue eyes as if appraising them, then swooped down over the ocean, disappearing again behind the rocks.

They approached the outcropping a minute later, and suddenly there was a great deal of motion although still no sound. Captain Parry stood at the front of the ship, hands flying in rapid, silent instructions as sailors up in the rigging tightened and loosened the sails on either side of the mast, steering the vessel through the rocks. Then they were through the first pass and the sirens' nest was beside them, not more than eight meters from the starboard side of the ship. Lucy stared as the ship hurried forward, watching the harshly beautiful creatures in awe and curiosity.

There were eight of them, preening as they perched with bird-legs on the edge of a huge nest of sharp sticks. Their skin-tones varied from the deepest cocoa to porcelain white, their hair and wings from jet black to flaming red to palest blonde, but all bore the same wicked, predatory expression as they eyed the sailors. Then one pale-skinned, fair-haired siren opened its mouth and there came forth a sound like nothing Lucy had ever heard, a silvery, entrancing ribbon of melody that seemed almost physical. Lucy felt a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She glanced over at Susan. Her sister's eyes were slightly unfocused, as if she was daydreaming, but the expression was more thoughtful than enchanted and she made no move towards the edge of the ship. Lucy reached for her hand and took hold of it, glancing up at the sailors in the rigging. A few kept stealing looks at the beautiful creatures; however, they continued with their work and did not attempt to follow them. All the sirens were singing now, weaving a tune of unspeakable, cruel beauty as they took flight and practically danced through the air together.

Just when the ship was almost beyond the nest, Lucy noticed that Thomas was not behaving normally. The edgy feeling in her throat intensified. He was standing on the first crossbeam of the mast, work forgotten as he watched the sirens swoop back and forth, and he was bringing his hand up to the side of his head uncertainly.

"Thomas!" Lucy shouted. Susan jumped in surprise at the sudden noise and her head snapped up to look at the young sailor in alarm. He did not seem to hear them. She joined with Lucy in calling his name. Tentatively, he stepped further out towards the edge of the ship as he balanced on the crossbeam, still eyeing the dancing sirens as if half-enchanted.

"Help, somebody help!" Lucy screamed desperately, but there was no one to hear them. She and Susan took off towards the mast, standing underneath the beam and shouting Thomas's name frantically. He noticed this time, looking down at them with a confused expression, but the song of the sea witches increased in intensity and he turned his watch back to the beautiful creatures.

"Stop!" cried Susan. She looked around for something to throw, but she had nothing and Lucy had only her cordial and dagger. Thomas's hand lingered halfway between his shoulder and head as if torn. Lucy, frightened tears pricking the edge of her eyes, screamed again for help but knew no one would hear her…

…but someone did, and as Edmund came barreling up the staircase, head turning rapidly to look for his younger sister, Lucy's fear erupted into panic.

"No! Ed! Go back!" Susan commanded, her voice rising in desperation. As he came into the open he froze, the song enveloping him in its magical touch. Lucy ran towards him as if to push him back down but she stopped as she approached, for the expression on his face was more similar to Susan's earlier look than to Thomas's obsessive one. Edmund shook his head vigorously and looked up to meet Lucy's tear-filled gaze. Without a word he sprinted to the mast and shot up the notched side, leaping out onto the crossbeam and wobbling precariously. When he regained his balance he hurried over to Thomas.

His hand had almost made contact with the sailor's sleeve when an olive-skinned siren dove at him, viciously tearing at Edmund's outstretched arm with sharp, clawed hands. He yelled in pain and stumbled backwards, faltering for a heart-stopping moment before stabilizing himself again. Thomas looked back in annoyance, then reached up and withdrew the beeswax from his ears.

"No!" Lucy shouted, but Edmund had already acted, throwing himself at the young man and knocking them both from the rigging.

It was more than a two-meter drop and the crash of the two landing was awful to hear. The sirens let out a horrible, shivering laugh as two of them soared in to prey on the fallen boys, but Lucy had ran forward and drew her dagger threateningly. With an angry resolution she slashed forward. A flame-haired siren screeched in fury as the dagger swept through her fair skin and thick red blood spurted forth. The creature flapped its wings in an ungainly fashion for a brief second, hovering in front of the girl, then its talons shot forth and hooked into her belt.

Lucy screamed as she was lifted from the ground. Susan lunged for her, but she was already heading too rapidly towards the edge of the deck. Without thinking, Lucy brought her bloodied dagger to her waist and sliced her belt through with one clean stroke, and she came free of the siren's clutches to slam painfully into the railing. The monster screamed in frustration and dropped the broken leather strap into the ocean. Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the siren's song stopped and they flew away in formation, never glancing back.

Lucy lay in a heap, unwilling to move for the screaming pain in her knees where they'd hit the railing. Susan had given her a brief glance before hurrying over to Thomas and Edmund, who had remained motionless since their fall from the mast. She rolled her brother off the sailor and quickly checked both for obvious broken limbs. Finding none, she straightened out and turned to Lucy.

"Are you all right, Lu?" she asked. Lucy nodded miserably. She felt her legs gingerly and seemed to find no real problems, so she staggered half-upright and crawled to the other three. Susan knelt beside her.

"Are they okay?" Lucy asked in a small voice. She couldn't help but feel guilty that it had been _her _shout that had made Edmund come out.

"I think so," said Susan. "Nothing your cordial can't fix, in any case."

Lucy's hand automatically went to her waist before the sickening truth hit her. Her cordial had been on her belt.


	8. Eight

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I only keep writing about them because I've pledged ten thousand words for every movie stub.

* * *

"I'm all right, Lu, really," Edmund protested as she wrapped his scratch-covered arm in white linen. She was in his cabin; Peter sat on his hammock and watched the whole process looking rather pale. Lucy's face was streaked with frustrated tears. She was unused to this sort of healing. She felt useless without her cordial, unable to do the thing that people looked to her for, and was resolute on not needing help herself. When she felt Peter's hand on her shoulder, she felt a surge of irritation – she didn't need the comfort. Turning with angry words poised on her tongue, she faltered at the sight of his concern-filled gaze and bit them back.

"There," she said stiffly, tying off the last bit of Edmund's bandages.

"I'm never sleeping again, if this is what happens," said Peter.

"It's a good thing you _were _asleep," Ed countered. "Or else you would have heard the sirens, and I don't think you could have ignored it as well as I did." There was no trace of smugness in his voice. Captain Parry had been surprised at Edmund's reaction to the sirens, but had judged that the boy had been just that – a boy, and not yet prone to the desires of men older than him.

Lucy muttered a goodbye and left the room, shutting the door behind her. She could feel her brothers' eyes follow her out. Biting her lip irritably, she let herself be angry with them for patronizing her while ignoring the infuriatingly reasonable voice within her that assured her that they were just worried. But the voice would not be brushed off so easily, and found a more corporeal way to express itself.

"Lu," Susan said, emerging from their room. "Come above and talk with me, will you? We're getting quite close and I should like to see the riverbank before we land."

Lucy knew instantly that Susan had other reasons for wanting to speak to her alone. Holding back a sigh, she nodded grudgingly and allowed her sister to lead the way up the staircase and into the fresher air. Susan walked over to lean against the port railing and smiled warmly at her younger sister, who crossed her arms and stared at the deck resolutely. A moment passed, salty spray tingling on their faces.

"Come on now, Lucy, where's your smile?" said Susan at last. Her sister scowled.

"I'm not a baby anymore," she said. "You don't have to talk to me that way."

She expected Susan to laugh and say something about always being the baby of the family at heart, so her head snapped up in surprise when her sister replied,

"No, you're right. I'm sorry."

It was such a simple thing to say; Lucy didn't know why it made her rush forward into her sister's waiting arms and bury her face in her shoulder. The crying came shortly after. Susan's right hand was making slow, calming circles on her back while her left smoothed her hair tenderly.

"It's hard being the youngest, isn't it?" Susan said quietly. "But Lucy, you understand that you're needed with or without that silly potion."

Lucy cried harder, arms about her sister's waist. A passing sailor gave the two a questioning look but Susan returned it with such a calm, _queenly _gaze that his eyes dropped to the deck in shame. They held each other for a long moment. When at last Lucy's weeping had slowed, she raised her shaking head and looked up at the serene face of her elder sister.

"Wh…why do you have to understand everything?" she sniffed. Susan merely smiled and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

"Not everything. Just some things." She turned her head to the side and looked out over the railing. "Oh, look, we're almost there. Just a bit longer, then we can finally get off this dratted ship."

Lucy gave a watery chuckle and watched the shoreline also.

About an hour later, the ship beached on the riverbank and a long plank was put into place, creating a ramp from the upper deck to the ground. Sailors scurried up and down it, bringing out the things needed for a camp, and the four Pevensies took what they needed from the ship and made their way down onto solid earth.

Lucy looked around happily. Where the Cappis River met the ocean there was a great pool of water, rather like a large pond of mixed salt and fresh water. On its other side, the river flowed out from a dense forest that started almost as soon as the sand stopped. People were setting up canvas tents all around her. She half-skipped to where Susan and Peter were working together to force wooden pegs into the ground, beaming at them as they finally draped the canvas over the shaky frame of the tent and collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion.

"Phew," said Susan, laughing. "I certainly haven't done _that _in a while."

Her older brother grinned and fell backwards to lay on the sand. The sky was growing darker now, the first colors of sunset dusting the horizon. Smiling, Lucy walked over, laid beside him and rested her head comfortably against his shoulder. Susan sat and watched them fondly for a moment.

"I think I'll leave you two alone and find someplace to bathe," she said. "I'll be back in a while."

Peter nodded and shifted slightly, his hand coming up to ruffle Lucy's hair affectionately. Whatever Susan had said to her earlier had obviously helped; the sulkiness was gone now and had been replaced by the real Lucy. She curled against his side. He lifted his head slightly, noting that Edmund was a ways off, reading a book and dangling his feet into the river. With a sigh, he let his head fall back onto the ground and moved his free hand to grasp the hilt of his sword.

Lucy frowned. For a moment, it had seemed her brother had been able to forget about his worry.

But then again, she thought with a grin, that was Peter – he hadn't quite found that concept of _self._


	9. Nine

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I only write long-winded stories about themto avoid doing homework.

**Author's Note: **I've hit the ten-thousand word mark! I think I've rather gone into shock - I've never, ever written anything this long. But I haven't run out of ideas yet, hooray! Oh, and Mooze, m'dear, I think I win. :) Thank you to all reviewers, it really means a lot to me that you've taken the time to read this through and told me what you thought. Here's hoping it doesn't go too far downhill.

* * *

The sky was a deep blue velvet, glistening with stars. Far below it, a roaring bonfire shot sparks high into the air as it crackled, popped and hissed. The air was pleasantly crisp and cold. Lucy sat upon the sand, watching some of the sailors perform a fast-paced dance around the fire and laughing as they stumbled over one another's feet. Beside her sat Thomas, who seemed rather quiet. He did not join in the dancing, but Lucy didn't know if it was because he was ashamed of himself or because his right side was entirely covered in dark bruises. He had been underneath Edmund when they fell, and had not had a body to cushion his landing.

Edmund came to sit next to her, returning from the bath Susan had made them all take. She had found a place in the river not far into the forest where the current was not as insistent.

"Hello, Lucy," he said. "Hello, Thomas."

Lucy responded with a hello of her own but Thomas seemed unwilling to speak to Edmund out of guilt. He had already apologized a hundred times over. Edmund shrugged and turned to watch the rest of the camp, lying back on his elbows.

"Where are Susan and Peter?" he asked after a minute. Lucy pointed over to their right with a happy, knowing smirk. Their brother and sister sat a ways away from the fire. Peter had fallen asleep with his head in Susan's lap and she was amusedly smoothing his golden hair. Edmund grinned. "I hope he wakes up sooner or later because I don't think we can carry him into the tent."

"No," agreed Lucy, but she had the feeling that Susan would stay out there as long as she was needed. It was how things tended to work in the family; Peter looked out for everyone and Susan looked out for Peter.

"It makes you think, doesn't it?" Edmund said quietly, suddenly sobered. Lucy looked over at him curiously. "What would happen if anything…went wrong."

"Oh, Ed, don't say things like that," she began, but he shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's just that…well, I realized a lot of things when the Witch stabbed me. For a long time I told myself that no one cared about me because it was easier to be angry at you all then to realize that I was mad at the war for taking Father away. I went to the Witch because she told me she could give me anything I wanted. But then things just sort of didn't go as planned, and.." he trailed off. Lucy thought she could see tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said again, swallowing. "I never meant to hurt you. I still have nightmares sometimes." Lucy scooted over and put an arm around his shoulders. He bit his lip and blinked several times, unwilling to cry in front of his little sister.

"Everything's all right now," she said.

"Yes, it is," he said gratefully. "And please…if anything happens…"

"Yes, Ed?"

"I love you all," he mumbled sheepishly. Lucy laughed and hugged him.

"We know. And we love you too."

He grinned through his unshed tears and hugged her back. Lucy still remembered Beruna, how her heart had nearly burst with fear as he had lain on his back, gasping for air and bleeding, how her cordial had saved them that time, how she and Susan and Peter had crushed him in an embrace that seemed to last forever. But this time there was no cordial.

Thomas coughed politely.

"Sorry to disturb, Majesties," he said. "But I think I'm off to bed."

He rose, wincing, and limped off into the darkness. Lucy watched him go, then lay on her back and stared up at the stars. Cair Paravel seemed far off now but she didn't miss it much. For the first time, she really thought about what lay ahead. What if the rumors were true? What if the White Witch was not dead after all? What if, what if? She pushed the thoughts from her mind and dragged herself away from the fire to her tent, where she pulled a blanket over herself and curled up inside it. Sleep claimed her before her siblings returned.

It felt strange to walk on solid ground, Lucy noted the next morning. She had grown so accustomed to the swaying deck beneath her feet that she felt unsteady on the riverbank.

Alone in the tent, Lucy pulled her dress over her head and tied it with a length of rope. Her dagger was stuck in one of the wooden posts that held the tent up, because its sheath was missing. She reached over and picked up her long, heavy mail tunic. It had been especially made for her. There was no one else her size that needed one aside from dwarfs, who were too broad. Frowning, Lucy cinched it with another belt, made of real leather but much wider than her original. Then she pulled her boots on, grabbed her dagger, and left the tent.

The rest of her siblings waited outside, dressed similarly. Susan looked exceedingly uncomfortable. She held her bow at her side, her quiver full of red-feathered arrows and the white horn dangling from her belt. Lucy looked up at them expectantly and received a small smile from Peter.

"We should be going," he said. "The sailors are staying at the riverbank, so we can leave everything here, just bring what you need. There's a band of centaurs that will take us to North Ettinsmoor waiting further in the forest."

They set off into the wood, making idle chatter as they fought through the dense undergrowth. It was about an hour before they came to the first clearing, where a stream flowed off the river and trickled through. The four sat and drank some of the clear water gratefully. Abruptly there was the unmistakable noise of footsteps and their hands flew to their weapons, but it was a centaur, dappled grey and powerfully built. He smiled at them through black eyes and bowed low.

"Your Majesties," he said, his voice a deep baritone. "My herd would be honored to escort you as far as you choose to go."

Several other centaurs stepped out from behind him, also bowing to the Kings and Queens respectfully. They were all armored, and many carried swords. Peter inclined his head to each one in turn, recognizing the ancient race, then straightened out and looked to his siblings.

"Take us to the Witch's creatures," he said. His own voice was more authoritative; it held in it a wisdom and fortitude that betrayed his boyish face. The centaur, who introduced himself as Carrul, nodded then turned without a word and began to lead them away from the clearing. The Pevensies followed with the rest of the centaurs bringing up the rear. Gripping her dagger tightly, Lucy looked around warily at the trees and wondered how many of them were loyal. She could not help but notice that all the centaurs were extraordinarily tense. Which of course raised the question – what was out there to be tense about?


	10. Ten

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I only put them in continual danger to create cute little siblings fluff scenes.

* * *

She found out soon enough, when the first barrage of arrows came whistling out of the trees a few hours after lunch. Carrul gave a shout of warning and ducked behind a tree as others scrambled to do the same. Lucy looked frantically for the source of the attack, stumbling over a tree root but catching a glimpse of several hooded figures through the forest.

"Susan!" she cried, pointing. Her sister already had an arrow notched to her bow, as did several centaurs, and she loosed it. It whizzed through the trees, a miraculous shot that clipped several branches before finding its mark in the throat of one of the enemy archers. Retaliatory shafts came shooting back with alacrity. With a sick feeling, Lucy helplessly watched one hone in on Susan, surely about to puncture her chest, but Edmund threw himself in the way and it clanged harmlessly off his shield. Confused shouts filled the air as the arrows continued to fly back and forth until the hooded archers took off through the trees.

"After them!" Peter shouted, dashing forward. The party sprinted at his heels, eyes on the fleeing figures and pounding through the forest at a dead-out run.

In any ordinary situation the centaurs would have been much faster than the humans, but the dense foliage and close trees prevented them from running as fast as they could. Running felt incredibly taxing when you wore a shirt of heavy metal, though, and Lucy found herself gasping for breath and struggling to keep up. Susan reached back to grab her hand and pulled her along.

For a moment Lucy thought they had lost their quarry until they burst out into a clearing and one of the centaurs raced forward, eyes intent on something beyond that she could not see. A single arrow hissed out from the other end of the clearing. It glanced off the shoulder armor of the centaur and the creature continued its charge, sword raised aloft with both hands, hurtling into the trees on the other side with the rest of the party not far behind. There came a great scream from the trees and Lucy saw one of the hooded figures hewed straight through, toppling out into the clearing.

Seconds later, Peter and the rest of the centaurs were upon them. There was a brief struggle, and all but one of the figures lay dead on the forest floor. The last was swiftly bound and its hood thrown back. To Lucy's immense surprise, it was human – at least, it had all the physical characteristics of one. He was tall and willowy with black hair and cold, steel-grey eyes that he glared up at them from the mossy ground with such venom and malice that she was surprised his gaze did not cut them through. Peter knelt beside the man and looked into his face.

"Who are you?" he demanded. Both were breathing hard. "Who do you serve?"

The man spat in his face. Several of the centaurs gave angry yells and rushed forward, and Lucy herself felt a surge of righteous anger, but Peter held up his hand and stopped them. He wiped the spittle from his face and repeated,

"Who do you serve?"

"Kill me," the man growled.

"No."

The two remained there in tense silence for a moment. Finally Peter sighed and got to his feet. A few centaurs muttered in disbelief when the young king reached down and pulled the man to a standing position, cutting loose the ropes that bound his ankles.

"Lead on," he said wearily to Carrul. "And you, prisoner, don't lag behind."

He shared a glance with Edmund, who gave a little nod. They set off again through the forest, kicking aside the bodies of the archers. Lucy felt squeamish – for all the talk of how glorious and wonderful battle was, she couldn't help wondering if the other men had had families. Susan reached for her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

After another few hours of travel with little disturbance, they were reunited with the Cappis River in a large glen. Carrul called a halt and advised Peter that it would be a good place to rest for the night. And so they began to settle down, the centaurs who had been carrying packs opening them to produce the basic necessities for a meal while the others went off to forage. The prisoner, who had remained silent and relatively cooperative, had his bonds cut and retied so that his hands were comfortably in front of him, then tied to a smooth-barked tree.

No fires were made because the smoke would have given away their position. Instead, the meal consisted of crisp centaur bread, assorted berries and nuts and various tubers that the foraging teams had found. The sun was beginning to sink beneath the horizon. When everyone had finished eating, Lucy helped her sister gather leftovers from the meal and strode to where the prisoner sat with a hate-filled expression. Susan knelt, picked a piece of bread from her skirt, tore it into a manageable portion and leaned forward to hold it before the man's mouth. He turned his head away, eyes filled with revulsion.

"Get your filthy hands away from me," he snarled. Susan, patient as ever, did not move. Lucy watched, holding her breath, as the man finally, grudgingly, almost angrily turned his head back and snatched the bread from her hands with his teeth. He chewed hungrily and swallowed. Susan tore another piece of bread and he took it again. Obviously he had not eaten in a long while. Finally there was no more to give and the two sisters moved off, leaving the prisoner to glare at their backs.

Looking up at Susan's face, Lucy found that she had not admired her sister more in a long time.

The sun was now almost gone completely and the stars were again coming out. Lying on the soft grass with the sound of the river in her ears, Lucy felt very tired and sleepy after a long day. Her siblings lay nearby, asleep or awake she didn't know. Soon she felt darkness closing in around her and surrendered to unconsciousness gratefully…

…only to be wakened, how much longer she didn't know, by a panicked yelp from Ed. Coming awake with a start, fumbling for her dagger, she could see nothing in the darkness but a hulking shape a few meters away. The prisoner's voice cut through the night harshly.

"Don't move or the boy's life is forfeit," he hissed. Lucy could feel Peter and Susan, tense beside her, and heard their quick, frightened breathing. Still she struggled to see.

There was the sound of someone dragging another person across the grass, then a muffled cry from Edmund. Lucy's eyes were just beginning to adjust to the ill light, but her hand had closed over the hilt of her dagger. Squinting, she made out two dark figures, one much larger than the other and holding a sword to the smaller one's throat, moving towards the edge of the camp. She raised her dagger, fully aware that if she missed it could mean death, then in one swift movement hurled it forward. It hissed through the air and buried itself in the prisoner's shin.

He gave an almighty scream, followed by a gasp of agony from his hostage, then toppled over onto the grass. In a matter of seconds Lucy, Susan and Peter were at their brother's side. Several centaurs had leaped forward to dispatch his attacker. Edmund was shaking uncontrollably but Lucy soon deduced that it was more from adrenaline than from injury, because he managed to gasp out,

"I'm all right. Just…"

But his siblings had already enveloped him in a huge embrace. He almost rolled his eyes, but decided against it, putting his arms around his littlest sister's shoulders.

"Thank you," he said quietly, still breathing unevenly. Susan pulled back and gave her sister a look of admiration.

"That was an amazing throw, Lu," she said. Peter had pulled her dagger from the captive's ankle and wiped it on the grass. Now he offered it back to her with a small, proud smile. She returned the gesture and accepted her weapon, gripping it tightly and trying not to think about what would have happened if she had missed.

But, she thought as she drifted to sleep again, later, she hadn't missed. And that was what mattered for the moment. At the time being, they were safe, and she could not have wished for more.


	11. Eleven

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just use them as substitutes for those days when I just can't find the antidepressants. An enormous thank you to Claudette for not only coming up with that sentence, but for catching my moronic word mistake. No, Carrul does not have a goat. ;.;

* * *

_Two days, _thought Lucy the next morning. _That's how long Peter said it would take. And today's the second._

That meant that today, it was likely that they would discover whether or not the rumors were true. Of course, if the day before had been any indication, there was certainly _someone _out there who wished them dead, but whether or not it was an organized act of violence they had yet to determine. One thing was odd, though – the archers who had attacked them had been human, and there were no humans in Narnia that she knew of. Granted, there were some that had come over from Archenland and other neighboring countries, like the sailors, but no one moved so far up north as Ettinsmoor, and certainly not without first paying their respects at the Cair. It was most peculiar.

However curious it was, it didn't stop Lucy from feeling rather sore and cranky the next morning. Sleeping in chain mail was not in the least bit comfortable, nor was it warm, and though she had woken to find Peter's cloak draped over herself as well as her own (she'd given her blue-lipped brother a thorough scolding for it), she was frigid. Over breakfast, the entire party had been quiet bordering on brooding. They had held off on calling up the first few brigades despite the earlier attack, because there was not yet any evidence to suggest that the archers hadn't simply been rogues and unconnected to any sort of rally.

There was no camp to pack up, and so as soon as everyone had eaten, they set out. Light grey clouds hung in the sky. The air was humid, though still cold, producing a rather miserable, soggy feeling. Trudging through piles of rotting foliage that smelled almost as bad as they felt, Lucy bit back her complaints and carried on in the alert silence that they all shared. She did not miss her brothers' tense hands upon their swords, nor her sister's white-knuckled grip on her bow. Carrul, grey coat shining faintly in the morning mist, led the way with a grim determination, and she knew that whatever was ahead could not be favorable. Her unease grew.

Aside from the tension in the group there was something else troublesome – the forest, where it had first been healthy and flourishing, was now spotted with dead and dying plants. Some were great trees, cracked and fallen to rest upon their living companions. Others were patches of what had once been flowers or bushes but were now for the most part limp and colorless. There was a distinctly unhealthy feel to the environment.

When the sun had finally managed to rise above the treetops, there came a rustling in the undergrowth and they all stopped dead, listening. All eyes trained on what was once a flowering shrub, now a shriveled mess of decaying leaves, as something inside moved feebly as if in pain. Nothing happened for a moment. Then, when whatever it was made no more movement, a massive bay centaur rushed forward, plunged his hand into the bush and withdrew the creature from within.

It was a dryad, probably the guardian of a tree in that very forest. It was quite apparent that she was suffering – her body was covered in ugly welts and scratches and she struggled only for a brief second before going limp in the centaur's grasp. He let go in shock. As she tumbled to the soft, leaf-strewn ground, her enormous brown eyes slid closed and from her lips escaped a faint, pained cry. No one knew quite what to do until Carrul took a step towards the dryad and addressed her.

"Forest spirit," he said. "How have you come to be in such a state?"

She had curled into a protective ball, shaking from cold and hurt and fear. Lucy felt a surge of pity and swept off her own cloak, moving to wrap it around the shoulders of the poor creature. She eased the dryad into a sitting position and made little soothing noises like Susan had done for her when she'd had nightmares back in England. When she looked up, she found the centaurs watching impassively and her siblings wearing identical expressions of subtle pride and encouragement.

"Where is your tree?" Lucy asked gently. The dryad was clinging to her shoulders as she crouched in the dead leaves, and she was finding it increasingly difficult not to tip over. She heard a snort of impatience from one of the centaurs as she held the shaking spirit in her arms. The dryad slowly looked up with wide, terrified eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly she gave a horrible wail and her entire body stiffened as if struck with a hatchet.

"A hole," she gasped, before her eyes clouded over for the last time and she fell from Lucy's arms, dead. A ripple of shock ran through the party. Lucy felt a hand on her shoulder and lifted her disbelieving eyes to see her sister, whose own eyes were open in surprise and fear.

"We have no time to waste, Majesties," Carrul said suddenly, his voice full of urgency. "Only those with a great army at their backs would dare risk the anger of the forest."

Lucy bent to tuck her cloak around the still figure of the dead spirit, but Susan touched her arm and shook her head sadly.

"You'll be needing that later," she whispered. Slowly, unwillingly, Lucy slid the cloth away, but she did not fasten it about herself. It didn't feel right.

One of the centaurs lifted the dyad easily from the ground and deposited her in the gnarled roots of a tall tree, so that she was nestled in the knotted wood comfortably. Carrul spoke a few hurried words in a tongue Lucy did not understand, then stepped back and looked gravely at his monarchs. He did not speak, but his desire to be moving onward was entirely evident. Peter glanced at his siblings before nodding solemnly, and they resumed their journey in silence. There was no birdsong, no laugh of nymphs from the running river in the distance, no sign that the forest contained any life at all.

After another hour of hurried travel through the wood, though, a new sound came to their ears. It was a combination of many things – clanking, thudding, hammering, and the buzz of chatter among others – almost as if they were overhearing a small village. But everyone knew the Northlands were uninhabited. It wasn't possible.

However, impossible would always be meaningless in Narnia, and this was proven as through the trees they glimpsed a clearing and the centaurs stopped dead, looking shocked.

"There should be no glen here," muttered Carrul. "Something is amiss."

They hastened on until they came to a sea of stumps, all that remained of a portion of the glorious forest. Beyond it, several small, crude dwellings had been erected, smoke trailing from rough clay chimneys. Lucy felt the centaurs behind her stiffen. And then, suddenly, a door opened in one of the houses and a tired-looking man holding a large wood axe stepped outside, holding the tool before him threateningly and eyeing the newcomers with distaste.

"You leave my family alone," he said wearily from a distance. His grip shifted on the axe. His accent was strange and implacable, like nothing Lucy had heard in Narnia or England. Frowning, she wondered how he could possibly think to battle against the power not only of several armed centaurs, but of four Kings and Queens of Narnia. He seemed horribly ignorant, but scared and exhausted.

"Put aside your weapon, stranger. Who are you?" Carrul demanded. The man's eyes trailed over the party, taking in first the centaurs with an expression of dulled shock, then over the four rulers. This seemed to surprise him more.

"You," he said urgently, looking at them. "You four. You're…human?"

They nodded, and Carrul took another intimidating step towards him.

"Thank God, we've been here weeks and not one proper human, except _her_, and she disappeared right after…" He broke into a coughing fit. Lucy's breath caught in her chest.

"Who is _she_?" Edmund asked, voicing her thoughts. The man looked up after he was done wheezing.

"The Lady," he said, as if it explained everything.

"Look, we aren't going to hurt you," Peter said impatiently. "Put the axe down, we'll drop our weapons, and we can discuss this like the civilized people we are."

"And who do you think you are to tell me that, boy?" said the man. Lucy found this to be an extraordinarily amusing question, and her laughter spilled forth, slicing through the tension like nothing else could.

"Why, he's the High King of Narnia, silly!" she exclaimed. "Everyone knows that!"

It was clear from his face that he didn't, and he eyed them with even more distrust than before.

"What sort of game is this?" he demanded.

"Please, sir," Susan said politely. "We mean you no harm. Set aside your weapon and let us discuss matters inside, out of the cold."

The gentleness in her tone seemed to make a difference in his response. He glanced from her to Peter, then back to Susan, before reluctantly lowering his axe and finally tossing it to one side.

"Fine," he muttered. "But _they _stay outside." He jerked a thumb at the centaurs, who looked indifferent, and turned to open the door of the house. Peter set about removing his sheath from his belt and set it down on the ground. Edmund followed suit. Susan parted with her bow, and Lucy grudgingly pushed her dagger into the earth beside the stump of a tree. Thoroughly unarmed, now, the four followed the stranger through the door of his house.

Hopefully, there would be answers inside.


	12. Twelve

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just spend my life trying to become part of them. And any incoherence at the end of this chapter is blamed on the bloody owl that's sitting outside my window, hooting its damned heart out and giving me brain spasms.

* * *

The interior of the dwelling was as rough as the exterior had appeared. Lucy entered the first dirt-floored room, which seemed to be a sort of kitchen that also functioned as a sitting room, furnished with only a rudimentary table and a few blocks of wood for chairs. Against one wall, there was a stone fireplace that emptied into a clay chimney. Both of these things had been much more carefully built than the table, and both were beginning to show the black, sooty stains of frequent use and not much cleaning. Currently a weak fire was hissing and popping there.

The man, even more tired-looking in the dim firelight, stumbled over to one of the wood blocks and sank down on it wearily. He had the look of someone who had gone through a great deal in a short amount of time. His mousy brown hair was streaked liberally with grey, his clothes were loose enough to suggest some amount of weight loss, and his shoulders slumped with a certain air of hostile dejectedness.

After a moment in which the stranger only rubbed his face with his hands, Lucy realized they weren't going to be invited to sit and took the initiative to do it without being asked. Her siblings copied her and drew out stumps for themselves. Another minute passed in a silence that seemed awkward to the Pevensies, but didn't seem to be bothering their host at all. Finally, Peter cleared his throat. The man looked up irritably.

"What do you want?" he asked, as if he'd forgotten they were there.

"What is your name?"

"Don't see why it matters," the man grumbled. "But if it pleases you, _your Majesty,_ they call me Perick." He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat.

"Thank you," said Peter. "Now that we know who we are addressing, Perick, may we ask how you came to be in these woods?"

Lucy noticed her brother was using his patient voice, the one he used back in England when she asked why there had to be a war. Unlike then, however, now his tone was lined with a hint of frustration.

"I don't see why it's any of your business," Perick snapped. Edmund bent forward, resting his elbows on the table and staring into the man's eyes evenly.

"Let me tell you a story," he said. "Once upon a time, four children accidentally stumbled into a world they knew nothing about. They found themselves trapped in a dangerous adventure that almost resulted in their deaths several times, but eventually they completed their tasks and became Kings and Queens of that new land. Years later, they set off on another long journey, in which they again faced dangers involving storms, sea monsters, attempted murders and one very inhospitable man who appeared to have murdered a portion of Narnia's forest in order to build himself a cabin. They tried to be patient with the man, but he seemed so woefully ignorant of the land around him that they could not help but wish to slap him upside the head."

Lucy was smiling broadly by the end of his speech despite the well-contained irritation at its finish. Peter held a dignified, kingly expression, but his blue eyes held an amused twinkle, and the corner's of Susan's mouth were twitching upwards against her own better judgment. Perick did not seem so amused, and he curled his hand into a fist, watching Edmund with a deep dislike.

"If my children ever spoke to me like that, I'd give them a good slap myself," he said. There was a tense silence.

"Look, sir," Susan said gently. "We don't want a fight. We've come a long way, and I must say your establishment comes as a great surprise to us. Please, couldn't you just tell us how you got here?"

He gave her a long, appraising look, which she returned earnestly, then he slumped back in his seat resignedly and began to speak. His voice was softer, now, with a touch of the exhaustion apparent in his features now showing in his tone.

"Back home, there was a war," he said. "I had a family, I didn't want to get involved, but they destroyed our homes and drove us off our land. There were many others like us, desperate to find some place to keep living, away from the battles, but there just wasn't a place for everyone. We wandered for weeks on end, staying on the edge of the forest, waiting for it to be over so we could start to rebuild everything they destroyed. But when it had been months, with no sign of stopping, the food around the forest was running out and we knew, all of us knew, we had to go somewhere else. We couldn't wait any longer. So we went into the wood." He paused and looked up at Susan, who he seemed to trust much more than her brothers. She nodded, and he continued.

"For a while we just lived off the fruit trees and occasionally caught a rabbit or something. But then Lyde, that's the son of my good friend Barrin, he came back one day, said he'd found something amazing in a lake and that we all had to come and see. I thought he'd taken a knock to the head; the rest followed and I went because my family wanted to and they were all I had left. Well, we got to the lake and it turns out he'd found _her._ She was up to her waist in the water, and not dressed in much, I don't know how she wasn't freezing, but she spoke to us. She said there was another world where we could go. Promised us land and freedom, something no one else could give us, and it was all too tempting, however strange it was, we couldn't refuse…" his voice trailed off, and he ran a hand through his graying hair.

"Go on," Susan prompted. Her face was paler than before, and as she shared a glance with her siblings, Lucy knew they were all thinking the same thing – could _she _be the White Witch? Perick sighed.

"There isn't much more to tell," he said tiredly. "She opened up some sort of a gateway – I'd heard of it in stories and the like, just never had seen it – and we were through, into this forest. _She_ promised we wouldn't be followed, and that we could do whatever we liked with the land, that it was ours. I don't know who you lot are, but I don't care anymore, I just want to see my daughters grow up. I just want to be left in peace." A certain bitterness had crept into his words.

Lucy, under ordinary circumstances, would have felt immediately sorry for the man, but the memory of a young dryad tumbling dead from her arms blocked the feeling.

"Do you know where you are?" Peter asked. The stony silence that ensued gave him his answer. "You are in Narnia, Perick, and it is not like any other world. Things are much different here."

"So I've noticed," Perick replied. "Now if you don't mind me asking, who in the blazes are you all? And are there any other people in this Narnia?"

"I am Peter Pevensie, and these are my brother and sisters, Edmund, Susan and Lucy," said Peter, nodding to each one in turn. Lucy noticed that he left off their titles, which seemed reasonable given Perick's apparent lack of trust. She had met enough ambassadors to understand that while Peter's eighteen years were simply young for a monarch, a thirteen-year-old queen without a regent was unheard of.

"And no, there are no other humans in Narnia," Edmund finished for his brother. "It's just us."

"How did you come to be here, then?" said Perick.

"I've already told you that," Ed replied with the faintest trace of a grin. "Once upon a time…"

"Don't give me that tripe, lad, I'm not stupid. Kings and Queens are stuffy old folk who sit up on their thrones and gossip as their people massacre each other, or stuff themselves while the workers starve. The Lady said this was a new, uncharted land. You're not going to come marching in here with half-horses and take it away, I've every right to be here."

"They're centaurs," Lucy said, frowning. It was the first she'd spoken since they'd entered his house, and Perick studied her for a moment before replying.

"I say it as I see it," he said.

"I think you see it wrong."

Perick scoffed, a sour expression crossing his face.

"If I were you," he said to Peter, "I wouldn't let her talk back like that." Lucy was about to open her mouth and say something quite disrespectful, but her older brother spoke first.

"Thank you for the advice," Peter replied coolly. "I'll bear it in mind if you ever become me."

Perick's eyebrows shot into his bangs before furrowing deeply, and he stood up threateningly, glaring down at all four of them.

"I've had just about enough of your cheek," he said angrily. "If you'll stop your playacting and ask me whatever questions you have left, I welcome you to stay. If not, get out of my house."

"Not questions," said Susan, glancing at Peter. "We must speak to you about something of a more serious nature. I don't think you understand the nature of the forest you're in."

"Then tell me quickly. I have more important things to be doing."

But he sat down, drawing his crude stool nearer to the table. Lucy shifted uncomfortably, wondering how to go about doing this. After all, she'd never accused anyone of murder before.


	13. Thirteen

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just stick them in situations where they have to talk to the kind of people I really despise.

* * *

"I'm going to tell you how we came to be here," began Susan, "but I must ask that you don't interrupt me, no matter how much you doubt us." When Perick grudgingly nodded, she continued. "More than four years ago, we were living in a place called England where there was a war going on. I'm sure you understand this. We lived in the city with our mother, and our father had gone off to fight, but the attacks were too dangerous and Mother decided to send us out into the country so we would be safe. An elderly scholar took us into his home.

"While we were there, Lucy found a portal much like the one you described to us. We entered this world through it, and were planning on just staying for a little while, but Edmund was…kidnapped." Edmund looked resolutely at the table, and Lucy was unsure if the tinge in his cheeks was from shame, or gratitude towards his sister. Susan offered him a small smile before going on. "Obviously we couldn't leave then, but through a series of incredibly odd exchanges with the most unlikely of people, we were told that there was someone who could save our brother from this woman who called herself Queen. We went to him, and he showed us where our paths would lead us.

"Edmund was rescued from the false Queen's camp. Already, her hold on Narnia was weakening, but it came down to one great battle. It was a terrible struggle but we all lived, and Aslan – he was the one who saved Ed – killed the White Witch. Her army was scattered. We four became joint rulers of Narnia, and for four years we've had peace and plenty, but now some of the citizens say her army is gathering again, and that's why we're here. We're trying to see if it is true.

"Your presence is a huge surprise, frankly. There are humans in neighboring countries; we were the only ones in Narnia for all this time, and we had no word that there were others. We don't wish to expel you in any way, but you seem not to know a great deal about our country. And this has led to a certain…upset of the environment."

Perick stared at her skeptically.

"And what do you mean by that?" he asked gruffly.

"The trees," Lucy cut in tightly. "You can't just go around killing the trees, it's murder." She felt strange and angry inside, but tried to suppress if for fear of embarrassing her siblings. Perick's face achieved a new level of incredulity.

"Now you've really lost it," he scoffed. "Trees are just trees. I would have thought someone your age would understand that, but apparently I was wrong. I'm through listening with your delusions, children. I expect you're orphans or something, living with the centaurs since your parents died, but I have my own family to look after, so if you'll excuse me…"

At that moment, a door at the edge of the room flew open, the swift pattering of light feet sounded and a small figure hurtled into Perick's side, burying its face in his shirt sleeve. A thin woman appeared at the doorway, balancing a baby on her hip and looking distraught.

"Elle, leave your father alone, he's got company," she pleaded. But Perick had already pulled the girl away from him, looking her in the eyes with a soft expression the four monarchs hadn't seen yet. He smoothed her hair worriedly, oblivious to their gazes.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked gently. She cast a glance towards the visitors, lower lip trembling and eyes brimming with tears. She could not have been more than seven. Perick looked up at them, face hardening and the hostility creeping back up into his voice. "Do they scare you, Ellie? Do they make you frightened? I can make them leave if you're scared, don't cry, Daddy will make them go away."

"I'm hungry," the girl whispered. Her voice was hoarse.

"Of course, love, go next door and ask Dilly for some bread, I'll come with you. Here, take my hand…" Perick stood up, grasping his daughter's arm and shooting the Pevensies a wary look. "I'll be back. If you even think of disturbing my household while I'm gone, I'll…" He faltered as his eyes met Elle's, and hurriedly pushed out of the door. The room was left silent and uncomfortable.

"Forgive my husband," said the woman, moving across the room to take his place across the table. If it was at all possible, she looked even more worn than Perick. "The war, it…it changed him. Please understand, he means no harm." She shifted the baby into her lap.

"We understand. War is awful," said Susan sympathetically. There was a lull in the bare-boned conversation.

"We meant to speak to your husband about something," Peter said finally. "I don't know if you heard us talking before, but…"

"Oh, I did," said the woman. "I know Perick doesn't believe you, but I cannot help but hope. Are you really Kings and Queens?" Her voice held a sort of wistful air.

"Yes," said Edmund.

"Can you prove it?"

"Not at the moment, I suppose. We've left all the things you would expect Kings and Queens to have back at the river mouth. We sailed here, from the castle Cair Paravel on the Eastern shore."

"A castle? What is it like? Do you have servants?"

Lucy noticed that the woman's eyes had brightened and she was leaning forward eagerly, a strange sort of hopeful greed on her face. She frowned.

"Yes," Susan said slowly, carefully. "But we do things ourselves much of the time. They're not slaves or anything."

"But if you're a Queen, couldn't you tell them to do anything? You wouldn't have to do any work, would you? You could just tell them to do everything for you, and they'd do it?"

Lucy's frown had passed on to all of her siblings now. Susan was fidgeting with the sleeve of her dress uncomfortably, glancing at Peter for some sort of guidance.

"That's beside the point," he said curtly. The woman appeared put off by his tone and stiffened slightly, a sour look crossing her face. "We must speak to you about the forest, Mrs.…"

"You may call me Gedra," she said.

"Thank you, Gedra. As you heard before, Narnia is a place unlike any other world that we know of. Animals here are not all dumb, like I would expect they are in your world, but some are Talking Beasts with what we would consider humanlike minds. They are essentially people in the bodies of other creatures. In addition to this, there are many kinds of half-humans, such as the centaurs we arrived with. Elsewhere there are also such creatures as fauns, mermaids and sirens." Edmund bit back a grin at this, while Peter looked disapprovingly worried.

"Dryads," Peter began again, "are tree-spirits. They are linked in body and soul to the forest. You may already have begun to see why we're mentioning this - your people are welcome in Narnia, but you cannot simply barge in and begin logging. As Lucy said before, it's…well, murder. The dryads are dying."

Gedra looked from Peter to Lucy with an expression of mild upset, but none of the shock and guilt that they'd expected.

"You'd place half-humans above your own kind?" she asked. Edmund made a vaguely disgusted noise in the back of his throat.

"We'd place the lives of our people above the luxury of ignorant foreigners," he said.

"Luxury?" Gedra said suddenly, loudly. "You call this luxury, this shack? Perick worked weeks to make even this, and now you're telling us we can't even cut down trees for fear of endangering some fairy tale creatures? While you live in your grand old castle at Care Pavarel, or whatever it is?"

"No!" Lucy shouted, standing up. "You don't understand it at all!"

There was a stunned silence. Lucy remained where she was, shaking with suppressed anger.

"You're killing the forest! You're killing a part of Narnia! You killed the dryad, and you don't even care!"

The baby in Gedra's lap woke and began to wail, and as she shushed it, she shot a filthy glare towards the youngest Pevensie.

"Now look what you've done," she snapped. But Lucy did not. With her siblings' shocked eyes on her the whole time, she turned on her heel, stalked straight to the door, wrenched it open, and left the house.


	14. Fourteen

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just wake up in the morning and immediately write over a thousand words about them.

* * *

A few of the centaurs who still lounged around the house straightened when she came out, but she moved by them without pause until she was a ways into the forest. They did not follow her. Crashing through bushes and ferns, she walked in a resolutely straight line until she happened to come upon a small stream, at which time she threw herself down on its banks and dug her fingers into the soft earth at its side. Anger and frustration broke over her in waves, clouding her vision.

"They don't understand," she murmured thickly.

The stream gurgled comfortingly in front of her, so she trailed a hand in, feeling small fish dart through her fingers. The rest of the forest was silent, though, and those of the village were rather far away though not indiscernible. She sighed. She knew later she would have to face her siblings, who would be upset with her for her rudeness. For the moment she decided not to think about it.

That moment was rather short-lived, though, when there came the sound of steel-tipped boot steps through the wood behind her. She refused to look up at whoever it was but instead yanked a bit of grass from the ground and began twisting it in her fingers. Someone sat beside her with a faint _clink _of chain mail.

"Lucy," Edmund's voice said quietly. "Are you all right?"

"No," she snapped. She would not look at him.

"Well, then, what's wrong?"

"You know perfectly well what's wrong."

"Lucy, we all wanted to get up and leave. But it wasn't going to help the dryads or get us any information. These people are ignorant, but as far as we know they're not cruel. Running out didn't help."

"Well that's the difference between you and me, then, isn't it?" Lucy said with a touch of shrillness. She was feeling irrationally angry with her brother. "You all can be mature and do the right thing all the time, and I can't. You all can all fight, but I'm still to young to even have a real sword. Why didn't you just leave me back at the river? It would have done just as much good."

"Lucy!" said Edmund reprovingly. "What's the matter with you?"

"Why can't I ever do anything on my own? Why do you and Susan and Peter always have to be looking out for me? I'm not helpless, Ed, I'm almost thirteen! You were younger when you came here and you went to war!"

Edmund bit his lip.

"That was different," he said. "There was a real war, then, not just a rumored one. Peter needed me. Aslan needed me."

Lucy opened her mouth and out it spilled without thinking.

"They needed a traitor?"

Her heart slammed painfully in her ribs. She couldn't believe herself. Edmund met her gaze, a look of deep hurt pooling in his dark eyes, then silently stood and walked back the way he had come, never looking back.

"Ed!" she called after him. "Ed, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it!" But it was too late. He was gone.

Lucy hugged her knees and began to cry. She was angry at the ignorant people for killing her country, and she was angry at the sirens for stealing her gift, but mostly she was angry with herself for being so hopelessly immature. Sitting there on the ground, she rocked back and forth miserably, wishing Edmund would come back and tell her that it would all be okay, that he understood why she was so angry, that he forgave her for being such an insensitive brat. She looked up at the sound of a footstep.

It wasn't Edmund. It was a short, powerfully built man with a long, curved sword in his hand, and he looked far from friendly.

"What's wrong, little girl?" he asked menacingly.

"Edmund?" Lucy called nervously, scooting backwards, away from the strange man.

"Shh, you don't want to be bringing all the villagers running, now, do you?" He took a step towards her, raising his sword a little bit. "I reckon you're one of the village lasses, though I've never seen one dressed in armor. But I bet they'd pay a fair price for your safe return, wouldn't you say?"

"Edmund!" Lucy screamed. She scrambled to her feet, but the man lunged for her and caught her leg, sending her spinning back to the forest floor. She cried out as he pinned her hands to the ground above her head with one hand, holding his blade to her neck with the other.

"Don't be making any more noise, love," he leered. "Now get up."

He yanked her to her feet, pressing his sword into her back and forcing her wrists behind her back. Frightened tears replaced guilty ones. The man began to prod her in a direction away from the village, ignoring her scared whimpers. Then there was a _crack _of a twig snapping somewhere nearby, and Lucy yelled as loudly as she could,

"Help!"

"Lu!" Edmund called back. A second later he burst through the trees, sword in hand, expression almost as terrified as hers. The man cursed loudly and dealt her a blow with the flat of his blade. She cried out in pain and dropped to the ground, face stinging, throwing out a leg in an attempt to trip her captor as he rushed towards her brother with his own sword raised.

_Clang! _The blades met and the two began to duel, skipping back and forth and bringing their weapons together in a great clash. Lucy darted forward and threw herself against the man's leg, but he did not topple over as she expected. He kicked her away and resumed the fight. Edmund was a skilled swordsman, but he was only a boy, and Lucy could see that he could not put as much power into his blows as his opponent. Gasping for breath on the floor, Lucy wished desperately for help. Surely the centaurs had heard her cries!

Edmund was tiring, but still battling desperately. He glanced backwards into the forest as if expecting someone else to come to his aid, but there was no reply. Again, Lucy flung herself at his foe but again he simply shook her off with a hefty blow to her stomach. She curled up in pain and could only watch helplessly as the man one-handedly brought his sword down onto her brother's, then used his other hand to bodily shove him to the ground. Edmund cried out and readied for the final blow, his foe standing above him with weapon poised high.

A red-feathered arrow whistled out of the trees and found its mark in the man's unprotected shoulder. As he roared in pain, he dropped his sword and clutched at his wounded arm. Peter came tearing out of the forest seconds later, blue eyes blazing with an unfamiliar rage, and he was followed closely by Susan, who quickly pulled Lucy to her feet and began to drag her away.

"No, let me stay…" Lucy began to protest, but Susan ignored her.

"You don't want to see," she said firmly, pulling her sister along.

From behind them, growing fainter every second, Lucy could hear Peter's furious voice. Still weeping from fear and shame, she hurried forward and away, towards the village. Susan's grip was anything but gentle, as her title would suggest, but Lucy would not complain because she knew that the whole deal was her fault. She had almost gotten Edmund killed.

"I'm sorry," she muttered incoherently. Susan squeezed her hand as they stepped into the village clearing, where the centaurs were looking uncharacteristically nervous. They relaxed at the sight of the two Queens. Susan let go and turned to Lucy, bending slightly to look her in the eyes.

"Any injuries?" she asked. This time, her voice was more tender. Lucy shook her head and bit her tongue to try and keep her tears out. Her face stung something awful and her stomach, where the man had kicked her twice, was paining her immensely, but she wouldn't say so. Both were her own fault.

"No," she said hoarsely, swallowing hard. "I'm all right."

"Good girl," Susan said, and wrapped her arm around her sister's shoulder. "Now don't go running off again, you hear me?"

Lucy nodded wretchedly, shaking even as Susan pressed a concerned kiss to her forehead. A few minutes later, Edmund and Peter came back through the trees, the former looking rather pale and the latter still quaking with anger. The elder of the two walked straight to Lucy, knelt and looked into her eyes with a more intense look than she'd seen in a very long time.

"Don't _ever _scare me like that again," he said. And then he'd wrapped his arms around her in a close hug, which she returned gratefully. Over his shoulder she caught a glimpse of Edmund. He did not smile when he saw her looking. Instead, he turned away and walked steadily to the other end of the clearing, hand upon his sword hilt, never looking back.


	15. Fifteen

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. If I did, I would be in some way connected to C.S. Lewis and would therefore not have written such a clumsy chapter. Blech.

* * *

"Shouldn't we be moving on?" Lucy asked anxiously, later. Evening was quickly stealing into the village, shadows darkening and the sky showing faint twinges of pink.

"We can't," Peter explained, tiredly rubbing circles on his temples. "This is an immediate problem and it needs to be dealt with."

"Can't you just make the centaurs hang them from their ankles?" she muttered. Susan gave her a disapproving glare made less threatening by the bemused glimmer in her eye.

"No, you little lion," she said. "We need to convince them to relocate. It's not safe up here, and we need to show them how to tell a dryad's tree from an ordinary one."

"How can we if they won't even speak to us?"

"They will eventually," Peter said calmly.

As if in reaction to his words, the door to Perick's cabin came open and he stepped out with his axe, glaring at the trespassers. In the past hour, they had seen four other men enter his dwelling, and now they followed him out. Lucy, Susan and Peter stood and faced him. The youngest felt the tips of her ears reddening in embarrassment.

"Haven't you left yet?" Perick called, sounding irritated. "This is our land. We could force you off it."

"Actually," Peter said fairly, "being High King of Narnia, all of this land technically belongs to me. It's down to your word against mine."

"Or we could make it my axe against your sword," Perick growled.

"That wouldn't prove anything."

"Maybe not, but I'll make you a deal – whoever wins the duel wins our dispute, so if you win, we'll recognize you as King and do whatever you command within reason. But if I win, you'll take your family and your half-breed horses off our land. I am speaking for our entire settlement. They have elected me leader for the time being."

"That hardly seems reasonable. You've given me no reason to believe you'll keep your word."

"And you've given me no reason to trust you either," Perick said. Peter's eyes followed his gaze to Lucy. Her brother's expression was unreadable. Turning back to Perick, he unsheathed his sword, but the older man shook his head.

"You have an advantage, stranger," said one of the men behind him. "You must remove your armor."

Peter fixed him with a look practically bursting with exasperation before pushing his sword into the ground and reaching for the buckle of his pauldron. There was a long minute full of satisfied glances from the villagers and the sounds of metal clinking as the young man stripped himself of his armor and mail, finally standing in only a long blue tunic and breeches. He bent, retrieved his sword, and looked back up at Perick.

"Swear on your love for your daughters," he said, "that if you lose this duel, you will stop felling the trees and move south, away from the dangers of these lands. I can ask some fauns to guide you if you'd like." Perick spat upon the ground and raised his axe. Lucy thought for a moment that she could see his wife looking despairingly out the window of their cabin. She had the feeling that Gedra did not approve of this at all, and could not help feeling that she too wished Peter would find some other way to solve the quarrel – she didn't doubt that he would win, but she worried that his opponent would not play fair.

"I swear it," Perick said solemnly. "And do you swear by your devotion to your own family that should you lose, you will leave this village and never return?"

"Done."

Susan pulled Lucy back as the two faced each other, weapons raised. The other men of the village had fanned out to form a disjointed half-circle behind Perick's back, and were now watching him with expressions of smug expectation.

"To disarmament," Peter said. Perick nodded.

"I would not fight to the death with one so inexperienced," he replied, and Lucy caught the hint of a knowing smile on the corner of her brother's mouth.

"Whenever you please."

Perick lunged forward, swinging his cumbersome weapon, obviously expecting Peter to be too surprised to dodge. The young king stepped to the side neatly and watched his opponent fly past and spin around to hurl himself back at his foe. This time Peter's sword came up, cutting a deep groove into the end of the axe-handle near its blade as he parried another frenzied swipe, and he pushed back hard. Perick stumbled backwards, brow creased with evident surprise at the skills of his rival. He attacked again, but more cautiously. When Peter brought his sword around to block on his left, he changed his direction mid-swing and managed to clip the young man's left wrist, earning a small dribble of blood.

The wound clearly changed something for Peter, and Lucy saw his eyes darken slightly before he swung his sword around and dealt Perick a series of rabid blows, just barely blocked by the axe-handle of the older man. Swiftly, flawlessly he feigned a thrust to the left then took advantage of his opponent's momentum and flicked his blade over the back of the hand that held the axe. With a yell, Perick dropped his weapon and grabbed his hand, surprised to find only a shallow cut. He leaned over to pick his weapon back up, but Peter had already sheathed his sword.

"You surrender, then?" Perick asked angrily, confused.

"No," said Peter. "I won."

"I'm still fighting, aren't I?"

"Yes, but we agreed – to the disarmament. When you let go of your weapon you forfeited."

Perick spluttered for a moment, and there were angry murmurs from the villagers who were now at Peter's back. Lucy smiled nervously, proud that her brother had finished it so quickly, but not at ease at all with the reactions of the townspeople, however few they were. One of them carried a long dirk and was fingering it with restrained wrath, his dark eyes following the young king. Peter knelt and picked up his chain mail tunic. He seemed resolutely oblivious to the dissatisfaction of the crowd behind him, and as Susan hurried over to help him redress, Lucy turned to Perick.

"It was fair," she said. "You agreed. It's not traditional but it's fair."

And, to her surprise, he bowed his head and his shoulder slumped down resignedly. Letting the axe drop from his fingers, he nodded wearily at the other villagers and they reluctantly dispersed to enter the other cabins. Lucy watched him for a moment, waiting for him to speak, and then he looked back up at her with a subdued hopelessness.

"We'll be moving out, then," he said quietly. Peter straightened up, obligingly allowing Susan to refasten his cloak.

"You don't need to leave right away," he said. "All I ask is that you don't cut down any more trees. And we still have one important question that we never got to ask for the…interruptions."

"Yes, your Majesty?"

"That may be a longer conversation," Susan pointed out. "Perhaps it's better left for indoors."

Perick nodded somewhat glumly and picked up his axe, then led the way towards his cabin. His eyes held none of the defiant anger of before, and Lucy actually _did _feel sorry for him this time. He hadn't known about the dryads, and his earlier hostility had obviously been a result of hard times and an overpowering urge to keep his family safe. She could relate.

Lucy was about to go inside when she remembered to check for Ed, who had been avoiding them since that afternoon. Earlier he had found company with a few centaurs who could not care either way, as he was for the most part silent, but closer to Perick's challenge she had noticed him slipping towards the edge of the clearing, brooding. Now she could not see him anywhere. Her stomach jolted slightly, and she quickly hurried indoors.

"Where's Ed?" she asked her two eldest siblings, who shared an alarmed glance before Peter quietly excused himself and hastened back out. Susan beckoned to Lucy and the two sat down opposite Gedra and Perick uneasily. _Peter will take care of it, _Lucy told herself. For now, they had to know who – or what – the Lady was.


	16. Sixteen

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just try to avoid being incredibly immature when making them deal with the problems of growing older.

**Author's Note: **I didn't notice that I'd hit 20,000 words last time, so here's my note for it now. An updated thank you to my faithful, wonderful reviewers; every word you write makes me want to post even faster. I hope I'm playing into everyone's field. I've made an attempt to not focus too heavily on any one character, but if you'd like more of any one of them, let me know and I'll see what I can do. Also feel free to PM me with ideas for other fics (especially oneshots) because sometimes I need a break from massive epics like this turned out to be. If you didn't know, my original goal was 5,000 words, and that seemed a whole lot to me. I'm rather giddy. In any case, here's chapter sixteen, I hope it's up to scratch and I again thank you for all your marvelous feedback

* * *

Lucy tried to smile as Elle clambered up into her father's lap, but could not dispel her worry for the younger of her two brothers. Her mind kept racing back to the one, terrifying thought – if anything happened to him, it was her fault – her fault for letting her anger get the best of her, her fault for bringing up something she'd long sworn to have forgotten. And that was the worst part. She _had _forgiven him. To that minute she still didn't understand why she had said such an awful thing when she didn't really hold it against him.

Perick gave a small cough, and Lucy's attention flickered back to the table.

"You had a question," he said. Then, as a suddenly remembered afterthought, "Your Majesties."

Susan nodded, looking for the most part composed, but Lucy saw her hands were closed into tight fists in her lap.

"Before, you spoke of someone you called The Lady. Can you tell us any more about this?" she said.

"Oh," said Perick, frowning. "We don't know much about her, only saw her for a moment back in the lake. She was…" he paused, trying to remember.

"Pale," Gedra cut in. Lucy and Susan shared a look.

"Yes, pale, with long white-gold hair. Wore a thin white robe. She wasn't bothered by the cold in that lake at all, but it was freezing, any normal person would have died."

Feeling less and less optimistic by the second, Susan swallowed and rested her chin on her hands, back straight and face drawn. Lucy was feeling quite uneasy now. There was no way to tell if this woman was really the White Witch, but the description fit almost perfectly so far. _But it's impossible, _Lucy reminded herself, _Aslan killed her. And what business would she have letting these people into Narnia, either? _

"Her hands," came a smaller voice, and Lucy gave a start. Elle was staring at them intently. "Her hands was odd. The fingers was connected."

"_Were _connected," Gedra murmured gently but insistently. Lucy glanced at her sister and found that she looked quizzical.

"Do you mean to say she had webbed fingers?" Susan asked.

"Yes," said Elle simply. "Like a fish."

"And her feet, were they also this way?"

"We couldn't see, they were in the water," said Perick.

This new piece of information was invaluable but quite puzzling. The only creatures in Narnia with webbed hands were mermaids or water nymphs, all creatures of good reputation. Of the two, Lucy knew that mermaids were the more physically powerful but that the nymphs of seas, larger lakes and the great rivers were capable of acquiring basic magical skills. A gifted nymph could bring about floods and storms. If Elle was telling the truth, there would be much to worry about – but still not as much as there would be if the Witch had returned.

"Did she speak?" asked Lucy. Gedra nodded.

"She told us to pass through a gate she'd made, and that whatever we found beyond it was ours to claim."

"And she said nothing else?"

"Actually," said Perick, frowning even more deeply, "she did, but it wasn't to us. Lyde, the boy who discovered her, had talked to her. I don't know what she said to him."

"Can we speak to him, then?" Lucy asked. Perick shook his head glumly.

"We haven't seen him in a week," he said, and his voice was hollow. "He disappeared during the night. We have no idea where he's gone, and Barrin is heartbroken. He was his only son."

"I'm sorry," Lucy said quietly. There was a short silence.

"We…we thank you for your time, but we really must move on," said Susan, rising. "We must find a place to stay for the night."

"You could set up camp here," Gedra offered with a hint of reluctance. She seemed slightly relieved when Susan rejected her offer, saying that there wasn't enough space in the clearing for such a large group. She and Lucy exited, both of them automatically looking for any sign of their brothers. Instead, Carrul stood outside with a rather impatient look on his face.

"I warned him not to wander off, Majesties," he told them. Lucy wasn't sure if he meant Peter or Edmund.

"Well, they did. Which way did Peter go?" Susan asked worriedly. Carrul pointed off towards the other end of the village clearing, opposite the side they'd come in from. The two sisters nodded their thanks, strode to where their weapons lay on the ground when they'd relinquished them earlier, equipped themselves, and set off. They passed into the trees a moment later.

"Why would he run off like that?" Susan muttered. She was setting a tough pace for Lucy to keep up with, the smaller girl having to half-run in order to do so. "Edmund, I mean. He's been acting strange since his fight with that brute in the woods."

Lucy's stomach twisted in guilt. She had hoped to make things up with him immediately, but she was too ashamed to apologize in front of Susan and Peter. She didn't want them to know what she had said. It was too cruel. But Edmund had avoided her since then, she had been unable to catch him alone, and so as yet she hadn't had a chance to tell him how awfully sorry she was.

"I don't know," she mumbled, hurrying along. She didn't even sound convincing to herself.

"What happened back there?"

"I…I was standing by the stream and the man surprised me," Lucy lied. "Edmund found me and attacked him."

Abruptly, Susan stopped and turned to look her sister. Her face was serious.

"Lucy," she said. "You've never been a good liar. What happened?"

Lucy squirmed, fiddling with her dagger. On top of feeling guilty about her earlier actions, she now felt guilty for lying to her older sister about something so serious. She avoided Susan's intent gaze for a moment, then sighed and looked her in the eyes.

"I've been a horrible, horrible sister," she said in a small voice.

"How bad could it have been?" asked Susan, perplexed.

And Lucy told her everything.

When she was finished, tears stinging in her eyes, fingers gripping her dagger so tightly it hurt, Susan only stared at her. The older girl's eyes were filled with a mix of disappointment, pity, and – much to Lucy's surprise – curiosity.

"Well," Susan said, after a moment. "That was a terrible thing to say, Lucy. But you already know that." Lucy nodded dejectedly, staring at the ground.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't," Susan replied easily. "I think…" here, she paused, "…I think you're getting to be that age."

This was unexpected. Lucy's head jerked up and she watched her sister in bewilderment. Susan had a curious expression upon her face, and the hint of that "I-know-something-you-don't-know" smirk was playing on the corner of her mouth.

"What do you mean, _that age?_" Lucy asked worriedly. _That age _sounded frightening. She didn't know if she wanted to be _that age. _

"Sometime, usually around your age, you start to change inside and out. Sometimes you get very upset for no reason at all, and other times you feel so unnaturally happy and you just can't explain it. Has that ever happened to you, Lu?"

Lucy nodded slowly. She'd felt that way several times, actually – a few times at Cair Paravel, she'd felt completely giddy and could not for the life of her say why. And ever since she'd lost her cordial she'd been feeling almost perpetually cranky, though she'd thought it was the loss of her gift.

"When do you stop being _that age_?" she questioned, keen to be in control of her feelings again. Susan laughed and wrapped an arm around her sister's shoulders affectionately. Lucy grudgingly received the one-armed hug, not at all amused with the whole situation and at a loss to explain why Susan was.

They set off again, Susan still grinning broadly to Lucy's immense irritation.

"Don't worry, Lucy," she said as they trekked on. "You get used to being _that age._"


	17. Seventeen

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just manage to find references to them in every ordinary thing.

* * *

The grey clouds they'd seen earlier that day were thickening above the two Pevensie sisters as they made their way through the forest. The sky was rapidly descending into darkness, its edges aflame in violent orange and pink. Every so often they called their brothers' names, growing more and more uneasy; each step brought them further from the village and closer to the unknown. Stumbling across the cluttered ground, Lucy glanced at her older sister's tight jaw and swallowed hard. Too much time had passed. They should have found them by now.

"Edmund!" she shouted. The sound was deadened by the trees, swallowed by the moss and leaves. "Peter!"

Susan hurried along, hand creeping to her horn. She had not used it since before their coronation and was reluctant to do so now, because she was unsure of its actual properties. The first time had brought Peter to her aid. Aslan had said, though, that it would bring help wherever she was, and she had the feeling that if she blew it again she would summon something else, something that might be too much for the relatively small task of finding her brothers.

Lucy flinched as a tiny drop of cold water struck her cheek. Her eyes flew to the dark sky to find it full of swirling, rain-bellied clouds, leaking the first threatening drops of a downpour. She called her brothers' names again, trying to keep the fear our her voice, and ran a few steps to catch up with her long-legged sister. All around her there came little threatening noises of rain hitting forest, growing more and more frequent. Soon it was a steady drizzle that made the two searchers pull their cloaks about themselves and draw the hoods up.

Suddenly, there came a sound in the undergrowth. Lucy and Susan froze, torn between hope and dread, hands tight upon their weapons, staring in the direction it came from. It grew louder and louder as they attempted to peer through the dense foliage. And then, a moment later, they caught a glimpse of two cloaked and mail-clad figures hurrying towards them and both breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"Peter! Edmund!" Lucy exclaimed as they came through the trees. The elder of the two had his arm around his younger brother, an affectionate grin on his face, while Edmund was looking reluctantly grateful. With a pang, Lucy noticed that his eyes were red as if he'd been crying. Both looked up at her yell. Edmund looked away quickly, choosing instead to look at Susan, but Peter's eyes met hers and the disappointment within them was enough to make her want to burst into tears. It was a look that left no room for interpretation – he knew what she'd said, and he expected her to make amends for it the first chance she got.

"We'd best be getting back," said Susan, practical as ever. "This isn't going to stay a light rain for long and we shouldn't be out without the centaurs, anyway."

Peter nodded, giving Edmund's shoulder a squeeze before releasing him and looking to the rest of his siblings. They set off again in silence. Neither sister asked where their brothers had been, or what they'd been doing, because it was quite clear without words and they did not wish to make Edmund recount it. For a short while they carried on without a word before Ed gave a small cough and they stopped to give him questioning glances.

"Are we sure this it the way?" he asked quietly. The looks on his siblings' faces said everything. And as luck would have it, nature chose that moment to open its floodgates and the rain exploded into a hammering torrent. Lucy squealed in surprise and discomfort, pulling her cloak as tightly about herself as possible.

"Watch for dryads," Peter said grimly over the noise. "They'll know the way back. But we need to keep moving. It isn't safe to just wait around."

They moved on, four damp and tense forms cutting a wandering path through an unknown forest. The ground was becoming sticky with mud and the unpleasant odor of wet compost was hanging thickly in the air. Stumbling across the many tree roots, Lucy tried to watch for any sign of life in the wood but there was nothing to be seen, only the dank and darkening shapes of the sickly plants.

Something caught her eye – her head snapped back and she focused between several of the tress, squinting to see in the bad light.

"Look!" she called to her siblings, pointing. Someone (or something) was coming towards them, a shadowed figure surrounded by a swirling cloak. The four froze, watching it, when suddenly Susan gave a shout and whirled around, at which Lucy realized that there wasn't one, but more than a dozen of the same mysterious persons closing in on them. Almost instantly she found herself one side of a square that she and her family made up – Ed on her right, Susan on her left, Peter behind her, all with weapons drawn. She raised her dagger as the shapes came nearer.

"Who's there?" Peter demanded. The first of the figures reached them. Its face was shadowed by a grey hood, but it was the size and shape of a human; it sounded like one when it gave a low, disdainful chuckle.

"This is a rare treat indeed," said a cold male voice, barely audible above the pounding rain.

"Two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve," a female one added in a singsong tone. Then a cruel laugh. "No doubt the prophesized Kings and Queens that Her Ladyship told us of."

"What do you want?" Susan asked angrily.

The circle that had formed around the monarchs tightened, and the Pevensies moved closer together. One of the group stepped forward with a long spear. He pointed it at the closest person to him, Susan,and declared in a louder voice,

"By the order of Queen Zale, we are to arrest the four false monarchs of Narnia."

"Then I must say you've got the wrong family," said Edmund, after a tense moment. His voice was light, but there was a fear behind it that Lucy could not ignore. "Who would this Zale be?"

"We serve Queen Zale of Castle Lake, defender of the oppressed peoples of Narnia," a cloaked woman replied.

"Oppressed peoples?" questioned Susan, and Lucy realized they were stalling for time, hoping that the centaurs might come looking…

"Yes, stupid girl. While four children from an alien world make decrees about things they do not understand, citizens of Narnia are persecuted by their own neighbors. Her Ladyship was born of this country. It is only natural that a true daughter of the land should sit upon its throne."

"We did not make such a choice," said Peter. "Aslan charged us with the task of governing Narnia. If ever we have overlooked the suffering of our people, we will do everything within our power to make amends, but please do not sink to this level – if you truly advocate a just cause, you would not murder to achieve your ends."

"If you truly are King Peter the Magnificent," the spear-wielding man retorted, "you would not try so desperately to prolong this conversation. I have no words to waste with you."

And they attacked.


	18. Eighteen

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just enjoy watching them in pain. Rating has been upped thanks to this chapter.

* * *

The first thing Lucy felt was Susan's hand forcing her to her knees. The first thing she heard was the _swish _of a blade whistling through the air she'd just been occupying, and the first thing she did was to bring her dagger down upon the foot of her would-be assassin. The next thing she heard was the subsequent scream, and the rest of it erupted into melee.

She scrambled to her feet, whirling around to take stock of the chaos around her; Edmund and Peter were both in their element, fiercely battling the enemy away from Susan so that she could make use of her own weapon. Already she was squinting down the length of a red-fletched arrow. A second later, she released it and it sped through the rainfall and into the throat of one of their attackers. Lucy leapt to stab at a club-wielding man who was attempting to sneak up on her sister and thrust her dagger into the highest point of him she could reach: his shoulder. The sharp knife slit through the chain mail and the man roared in pain, clumsily swinging his own weapon at her, but she dodged it easily and threw herself at him again, stabbing into his other shoulder. He howled and fell to the ground, splattering Lucy with mud and blood.

She wasted no time thinking but hopped over his prone body and shot forward to form the third part of a triangle around Susan, dodging a sword swipe as she did so. It was extremely unnerving to have arrows flying out from just behind her head, but she had no choice but to trust her sister. Lucy jabbed her dagger at anything that moved, adrenaline surging through her in great waves; the rain was slamming down onto the battle ferociously and the screams of the wounded pierced the evening air like Susan's arrows through armor.

A tall woman wielding a long saber lunged towards Lucy suddenly. She screamed and jumped sideways, the blade missing her side by mere inches, but the woman was preparing for another slash and Lucy knew that her short weapon was no match. She dodged again frantically, looking for a way to get close enough to attack. Then her enemy changed tactics, charging her, her saber headed straight for Lucy's stomach, unavoidable, but there was a flash of red and blue and glinting silver, and Peter's shield knocked the blade away with a great clatter. His sword hummed through the air and abruptly, the woman was face-down upon the sodden earth, dead.

Lucy could not find the voice to yell thanks. Swallowing, she ducked the deadly path of a spiked mace and stumbled forward in the mud, then drove her dagger into the unprotected side of its owner.

_Don't think about it, don't think about it, you can't afford to think about it right now, _she told herself desperately. The mace-wielding man toppled to one side with a bellow of pain, and as he fell his weapon flew out of his hands and smashed painfully into Lucy's leather-booted shins. The force of the blow knocked her off balance and she fell backwards into the mud, catching herself on her elbows, still clutching her dagger in her right hand. She scrambled to rise again. Suddenly, there was a hand grabbing her leg, dragging her back down, and the man she'd just attacked snarled furiously at her as he forced her back to the ground. Uttering a cry of surprise and pain, she slashed at him with her dagger but the angle was wrong and it glanced off his mail tunic, his other arm darting out to grab her shoulders and force her to the ground.

He was on his hands and knees next to her, reaching into his cloak and pulling out a length of rope, when a sword blade erupted from his chest. With a gurgle he slipped sideways and the blade retracted, revealing a heavily breathing Edmund who quickly pulled his sister to her feet before hurling himself into the nearest foe. Lucy stood for a moment, panting. But the screams all around her brought her back to the present and she staggered sideways to dodge a hatchet swung by a short, stocky woman with a twisted face. Performing a quick duck-and-weave, the young queen shot forward and under the outstretched weapon to bring her dagger into the collar of her attacker, just above the armor. The woman screeched and gave a final, desperate swipe with her axe before she fell to the floor, writhing.

Lucy glanced frantically around. There were still so many! It seemed that even more grey-cloaked men and women had arrived since the start of the battle; even though more than a dozen lay wounded or slain on the muddy ground, there were still an equal number fighting and several others weaving through the trees towards them. A sick feeling grew in her stomach, knowing that they could not keep this up for much longer.

Susan was firing off arrows less frequently, as her arrows were growing fewer and she needed to pick her shots more carefully. Edmund was fighting viciously with a bear of a man wielding an enormous broadsword, using his agility to his advantage but obviously growing exhausted. The rain battered all without discrimination and turned the forest floor into a deadly mess of slick mud and compost. Abruptly, Lucy realized that she could not see Peter, but it was only the briefest moment before there was a flicker of blood-red from several meters away and she caught sight of him, surrounded by several grey-cloaked figures and battling valiantly against the odds, sword-blade dancing death for them. She took off towards them, launching herself onto the back of a tall man who was about to swing a club at her brother and thrusting her dagger into the back of his neck.

He screamed and fell backwards with her beneath him. As she thudded painfully into the ground, trapped beneath his bulk, she pulled her dagger from his flesh and squirmed out with great difficulty. Peter hewed down one of his assaulters and leapt to Lucy's defense as another attempted to drive his own dagger into her arm. Lucy realized suddenly that they seemed reluctant to kill; the mace-wielding man she'd stabbed earlier had only attempted to bind her, and whenever possible it seemed they aimed for non-fatal parts of the body. Obviously they were more intent on capture than kill.

And suddenly out of the pandemonium there came the most frightening sound Lucy thought she'd ever heard. Susan – her composed, calm sister – stumbled backwards and began to collapse, a horrible, prolonged scream ripping from her throat as a long dirk erupted just above her knee and a leering woman behind her let out a shriek of triumph. Time seemed to slow for Lucy, vaguely aware of Peter rushing past her and towards her sister as she watched her fall to the ground, still screaming in agony. The battle lulled for a moment to watch. Peter sprinted past them all, dropping his sword and ripping off his gauntlets before his fumbling fingers pulled the weapon from his sister's leg and shoved it through her attacker's stomach. Crimson life-fluid seeped through his fingers and he pressed his hands desperately to her wound, a gaping hole where her mail tunic ended at the bottom of her left thigh.

The moment was shattered when the spearbutt of the man who had initiated the battle rammed into Peter's stomach, doubling him over as he crumpled to the ground in anguish. Lucy was only half-aware that she and Edmund both screamed his name at the same time. Then Ed was bounding across the ground, bringing his sword down upon the spearhead that had been shooting towards his brother and severing it cleanly, then thrusting his blade through the chest of its owner. His frightened eyes turned to Peter, who looked up at him with a burning gaze.

"Winded. Can't run. Go!" Peter commanded. His hands groped for his sword, finally closing around its hilt even as more attackers rushed in towards them. Edmund stared for a moment, but his tone could not have been clearer, and his shaken mind did not dare disobey…

The last thing that Lucy felt was Edmund's hand dragging her away at breakneck speed, running pell-mell through the trees. The last thing Lucy heard was his broken sobs and gasping breaths, and the last thing she did was to realize with a lurch of her stomach that Peter's words might as well have been his own death sentence.


	19. Nineteen

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just memorize every little detail about them in order to live a different life.

* * *

Lucy felt as if her lungs were being scrubbed with sandpaper. Her breath was coming in short, painful gasps as she stumbled along, but Ed would not relent. Her legs were on fire. Her face was streaked with scratches from the trees that were a blur in the corners of her vision. Her eyes were stinging with tears and rushing air. Her side felt as if it were splitting in two. But still, her brother dragged her along by the hand, his own breathing ragged and struggling. 

After what seemed like an eternity of running, stumbling and falling, they hurtled into the massive, gnarled roots of an ancient oak tree. As high as their heads, the roots formed a protective barrier above them and a cradle beneath them of soft, cool earth, and they collapsed in it to lie there and strain for air. The rain was halted by the wood of the tree. It thudded loudly, but only a few drops trickled down to drip on their faces. For several minutes they lay sprawled and breathless in the mossy lap of the great oak. Finally, Lucy rolled agonizingly to her side.

"Edmund," she wheezed, her voice hoarse and small. Her brother lay on his back with his chest heaving in exertion. At her voice he let his head fall towards her, acknowledging her comment but unable to reply. She opened her mouth to speak again but instead broke into a fit of coughing.

When it passed, she looked up again. Even in the dark she knew he could see the tears in her eyes. Edmund squeezed his own eyes shut, shuddering, but gingerly sat up and scooted over to her, leaning back on the tree root and drawing her up into his lap. She began to sob, dropping her dagger to dig her fingers into his bloodstained tunic and pushing her face into his shoulder. Both of them were covered in mud and dripping rainwater that made the blood in their clothes run in pinkish rivulets. Silently, holding back his own tears, Edmund wrapped his arms around his little sister and held her as she quivered with grief and fear and guilt.

"I'm sorry," she bawled, muffled by his shoulder. He hugged her tighter and looked over her head into the dark of the night, back where he'd come from…back where he'd left the rest of his family…Lucy continued weeping, but he didn't know what to do. It was Susan who was good at this, or sometimes Peter.

"Shh," he muttered in what he hoped was a comforting voice. The rain was quite nearly drowning him out, and he was so very tired. He felt his eyelids grow as heavy as his heart.

"Oh, Ed," Lucy whimpered miserably, face splotchy and red. She was still crying. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant to…"

"Shh," he repeated. He tried to remember what Susan did in situations like these. But Susan was gone. Susan was probably dying. Edmund felt an immeasurable tidal wave of panic course up through his body but he forced it back down. He was the oldest for now. He had to be responsible, for Lucy's sake, just until Peter came back. The tiny, nasty voice inside him dared comment icily: _if he comes back alive, _and Edmund told it forcibly to shut up, pulling his sister tightly to him.

Lucy quieted after a time. She felt utterly exhausted, not only physically but emotionally, and found that she could not even shift from her current position. Fortunately Edmund didn't seem to want to move either. And so the moonless night saw the two youngest of the Pevensie children asleep in one another's arms as the great oak cradled them and sheltered them. They fell into a shallow, troubled doze, full of dreams of dead kings and queens and being so very frightfully alone.

When Lucy woke, it was to find herself with no company but the tree. Almost instantly, she felt an overwhelming rush of cold and fright that was not alleviated by the clear sky. She struggled to her feet, sore all over, then slowly bent over to retrieve her dagger where it lay on the damp ground and lifted her head wearily.

"Edmund?" she called. There was no reply, and a sort of exhausted dread closed her throat. She stood stock still, listening.

Somewhere, almost lost in the dripping sounds of trees shedding the previous day's rainfall, she could hear the burbling of a small creek. Lucy began to move towards it, hoping fervently that she would find her brother there. She was not disappointed. She came to a small glen, where Edmund sat on the bank of the little stream and was washing the blood from his cloak, his tunic and breeches already clean and dripping. At the sound of his sister's footfalls he looked up, and his eyes were dull.

"Hello," he said quietly, wringing out his cloak. It dripped mud and pinkish, watered-down blood.

"Hello," she replied. He turned back away and continued with his work in silence. Several minutes passed, Lucy watching him, and then finally his garment was as clean as it would get. He opened it up and draped it over the branch of a low tree so that it might dry slightly before he put it on. Without a word, he looked back at his sister and they shared another moment of long, awkward silence.

"What are we going to do?" she asked finally, and her voice was choked. Edmund looked at the ground.

"I don't know."

Lucy shifted uncomfortably.

"We can't just leave them…" She trailed off, unable to speak any more for fear that she'd lose the rest of her composure. When she lifted her eyes to meet Edmund, he was staring at her with a sort of hurt irritation.

"I didn't say we were going to," he said quietly. There was a certain defensiveness in his tone that made Lucy realize how scared he was. In some ways it was comforting to know that she wasn't alone in being terrified. On the other hand the fact that he was unsure of what to do left her directionless. She didn't know how to go about rescuing people because she'd never had the need for it. Again, the two children simply stood stonily with the drips and drops of the trees shedding rainwater around them.

"Ed," Lucy said flatly. "We have to get back. We can't do this alone."

"I know," he said. She waited for him to say more but he didn't.

"Which way?" she asked at last. He sighed deeply, looking down at his sword with his shoulders slumped and eyes blank.

"I don't know," Edmund replied, sounding disheartened. His head came back up and he pulled his cloak from the branch of the tree, rolling it up instead of putting it on. "Get cleaned up and we'll leave. Call me when you're through."

Lucy watched him until he was out of sight, back to their sleeping spot, then unfastened her cloak and stepped over to the stream. The garment was a sorry mess, full of rips, bloodstains and crusted with mud. Kneeling, she submerged it in the shallow running water and rubbed at it, trying to undo some of the damage; as some of the filth floated away she wished she could forget the previous night and everything that came with it. But of course she could not, and the sorrow and dread caused her to shudder visibly.

When the cloak was free of the worst of the stains, she squeezed the excess water from it and hung it from the tree as Edmund had done. Then she gingerly stripped off the mail tunic, her arms aching from its weight, and dumped it unceremoniously on the ground. She couldn't wash it until she had a way of doing so that wouldn't make it rust. Looking down at her dress, she realized it was almost as bad as her cloak had been. Well, what had to be done had to be done. She pulled it over her head, feeling very exposed, then quickly plunged it into the creek and scrubbed at it furiously, working so quickly that it was almost presentable in less than a minute. Lucy tugged it back on and briefly struggled with the armor before it fell back in place and she tied it with the belt.

Her clothes were wet, but not much wetter than the previous night's rain had made them. Shivering from the cold and from worry, she walked back to the oak tree and found Edmund there, distractedly playing with a blade of grass. He got to his feet when she came, picking up his rolled-up cloak, and without a word they set off.

Lucy couldn't help but think, _to where?_


	20. Twenty

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just use them to avoid productiveness.

* * *

"Haven't we been here before?" she asked several hours later. Edmund stopped walking abruptly, turning to face her with a very sour look on his face.

"Stop asking me that!" he snapped. She shrank back and muttered an apology. Sighing tiredly, Edmund pushed a hand through his dark hair, then looked back up at his sister with a frown. He shook his head unhappily. "Sorry. I'm not sure."

"There isn't anyone to ask," said Lucy. This was unsettlingly true. The forest was as devoid of life as it had been before; there weren't any creatures of any kind. Occasionally they would catch a glimpse of something moving in the trees but whenever they moved towards it, it would disappear.

"We need to keep moving. We can't know if there's anyone looking for us," Edmund pointed out. Lucy wasn't quite sure if he meant looking to hinder or help. Nodding glumly, she began walking again, her footsteps unnervingly loud in the silent forest. Dead leaves crunched beneath her feet. The air was much crisper than it had been before, bitingly cold but with the miserable dampness of the wood permeating it all.

Lucy shivered visibly as she walked on. She wondered where their brother and sister were, but found that she didn't really want to think about it. It brought unsettling images to her mind. Edmund seemed to sense her discontent, looking back at her questioningly as they made their way through the trees.

"Something wrong?" he asked. He answered his own question with a hollow, humorless laugh and rubbed his shoulder uncomfortably. "Besides the obvious."

"No," said Lucy. But then it occurred to her that she never had properly apologized for her comment before. It seemed far too late and out of context now, but she knew it had to be said at some point and there was little else to talk about. She kept walking, but spoke again. "Yes, actually."

"Hmm?" Ed glanced at her before kicking aside a dead branch in front of them and slowing his pace slightly.

"I…Ed, I'm…I'm sorry," she began, unsure of how to say it.

"For what?"

"For what I said before." She swallowed hard. Somehow she didn't think Edmund would attribute it to being _that age. _He didn't reply for a moment, which unnerved her slightly. When he did spoke, his tone was thoughtful.

"I'd forgotten about that, actually," he mused.

Lucy blinked, astonished. She'd thought he would be angry or at least a little upset. But this, this was entirely unexpected. She tried to keep her voice casual for she had the feeling she was making a much bigger deal of it than he was going to.

"But…" she started. "How could you forget? It was a perfectly awful thing to say."

"Yes, it was," he conceded, and she flinched. "But we all say things like that sometimes. I seem to recall doing it all the time before Narnia."

"That was different, though. You were upset about the war back home, it was understandable," Lucy argued. She had been expecting him to at least comprehend why she was troubled about the whole mess; really, she had been expecting anything but the indifferent brush-off she was currently receiving.

"So?" he said. "You were upset about your cordial, and about those clods back in the village. I was about ready to storm out myself."

"Edmund!" Lucy exclaimed exasperatedly. He looked up, slightly startled, but kept walking. She ran a step to catch up from where she'd stopped. Taking a deep breath, she let it out and tried again in a more reasonable tone. "You can't say you weren't hurt, Ed. Why else would you have left?"

"Well…" he trailed off, stumbling slightly on the irregular ground. "You're right. I was upset at first because I had somehow hoped it had been forgotten, not just forgiven. But that's too much to expect. What I did was hardly forgivable, and the fact that you still consider me a brother is enough. You forgave me, I'm forgiving you. Fair deal?"

"I guess," she mumbled.

"In any case, I'm all right now," he said. "Peter talked to me…" But he trailed off, his tone slightly choked. He shook his head vigorously as if trying to clear some unwanted thought. A short silence passed. Lucy watched the weak sunlight play off the shield on her brother's back.

"He's good with that sort of thing," Lucy said in a very small voice. Edmund nodded tightly, now refusing to meet her eyes and walking resolutely onward. His sister hurried to keep up with him.

"We'll find them," he said with a sort of shaky confidence, after a moment.

"Yes," she agreed firmly. He offered her a small, grateful smile, hesitated for a moment, and threw an arm around her shoulders affectionately.

"When the Witch asked to meet you all, I told her you were nothing special," he said quietly. Edmund's lips curled up slightly in a reflective smile. "I really was a liar then, wasn't I?"

Lucy laughed and grinned up at her brother. The terrible dread in her stomach had lessened by a fraction; the idea that at least they would face whatever lay ahead together was comforting. After a minute they let go and continued on side by side, their strides a little more assured this time.

They stopped for lunch a few hours later. There had been a grove of fairly healthy fruit trees, and so they'd helped themselves to apples and pears and a generous portion of raspberries from a nearby bush. Sprawled next to one another on the still-drying forest floor, they ate their fill in quiet. Still, they had no idea where they had come from or where they were going. They could only hope that soon, someone would come who would be able to direct them to help.

They were almost finished eating when they noticed someone a ways off in the trees, a short figure ambling in their general direction. Edmund's hand crept to his sword. Lucy slid her dagger off the ground and concealed it surreptitiously in the folds of her dress. Both remained seated. As the figure drew nearer, they could begin to see the details of its form and Lucy realized that it was a dwarf with a round little belly and a long white beard. Most curiously, she noticed as he approached them, he carried a broadsword that was far too long for him; it dragged on the ground unless he pushed down on the hilt to raise the blade. When he was only a few meters away he seemed to catch sight of them for the first time.

"Good afternoon," he called jovially. Lucy and Edmund shared a glance. He seemed pleasant enough.

"Good day, sir," Edmund replied cautiously. The man plucked an apple from a nearby tree and walked over to them, his stride a jaunty swagger.

"Well, what have we here?" he asked. "What are you children doing out in the woods with all the mercenaries running about?"

"Mercenaries?" Lucy repeated.

"Yes, those humans what came over from the other world," the dwarf said, hooking a hand into his belt and taking a bite of the apple. Through a mouthful, he continued, "Awful lot. Really _mmph _terrible the things they do for the promise of land."

"Oh," she said stiffly. The dwarf was eyeing them with a sort of disinterested arrogance that irritated her to a great extent.

She looked over at Edmund for some sort of lead, but his eyes were fixated upon the dwarf's sword and he had the most odd expression she'd ever seen upon his face. She followed his gaze and took stock of the it. It was beautifully crafted, a long, flat blade with gold inlaid in intricate patterns. She admired it for a moment before looking to the rest of the weapon. The cross-hilt was simple and the hilt itself was bound with red leather, the end topped off with a small, golden lion head.

And then it hit her, and she knew in an instant why Edmund's face was contorted in badly-concealed rage.

It was Rhindon. Peter's sword.


	21. Twenty One

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just shove them into OCs in order to advance the plot. Apologies for the delay and the bad quality, I've had writer's block.

* * *

In an instant they were both on their feet. 

"Where did you get that?' Edmund demanded, pointing at the sword with a shaking finger. Every muscle in his body was tense. The dwarf looked slightly surprised, glancing down at it before shifting his weight on one leg, taking a bite of his apple and chewing thoughtfully.

"This?" he said dismissively. "Had it since childhood, why do you ask?"

"Don't lie to me!"

Edmund's face was livid. Lucy didn't think she'd ever seen him this angry and it frightened her. The dwarf's expression darkened and he straightened a bit, drawing himself up to meet Edmund's furious glare.

"Are you accusing me of something, lad?" he said dangerously.

"Yes," Edmund hissed. He was quaking with wrath as he stood, fists clenched at his sides.

"And what might that be?" the dwarf growled.

"You're a thief! That doesn't belong to you and it never did!"

"And how would you know that, boy?" the dwarf roared. Edmund's rage was spreading through the both of them as they grew more and more agitated. Lucy shrank back from the two in fear. Even the wind seemed to catch the contagious feeling and was whipping around their ankles furiously, stirring up the foliage at their feet and rustling the trees.

"Where did you get that sword? Tell me the truth!"

"It's not any of your business, but if you're going to get so worked up about it, I'll tell you! I found it."

There was a moment of tense silence.

"Where?" Edmund asked huskily. The dwarf looked at him as if deciding whether or not it was worth it to answer the question.

"Took it off a dead man," he said at last. A nasty, satisfied expression had settled on his face.

Lucy felt her stomach drop out to be replaced by a cold, hollow, raging storm. Her breath froze in her lungs as she stared at him in disbelief, the sides of her vision blurred. _Impossible. _Edmund stood with blank eyes and his hands curling and uncurling at his sides limply. There was a long, dreadful, empty hush.

"Dead," Edmund repeated finally, his voice dull. The dwarf's expression did not change.

"Your father, lad?" he asked gruffly. Lucy's head snapped up and an unexpected hope blossomed in her chest.

"Sir," she pleaded. "How old was he?"

"Probably just past his prime, forty or so," the dwarf replied. He took another bite of the apple and surveyed them with a haughty apathy, rubbing his sausage-like fingers up and down the hilt of Peter's sword and smirking at the twitch it elicited from Edmund.

Lucy's breath returned to her instantly. Warm relief spread palpably through her body and she almost shivered with joy, casting a glance at her brother. A brief flash of gratefulness lit his face before he looked sharply back up at the dwarf.

"How far from here? In what direction?" he asked urgently.

"Couldn't tell you," said the dwarf. "I just wander. And collect treasure to bring back home."

Lucy stiffened.

"That's our brother's sword," she accused. The dwarf looked over at her uninterestedly, adjusting his belt beneath his protruding stomach and polishing the uneaten part of his apple on his tunic.

"I don't seem him asking for its return," he said. "And I've no interest in supplying weapons for the human bands what've been killing my forest."

"We're not with them!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"And I'm a giant," the dwarf scoffed. "You must think I'm some kind of fool, lass. I know a human when I see one."

"Yes, we're human," Edmund interrupted impatiently. "But we are not part of the mercenary bands. We were attacked by them, and our brother and sister, they were…were…captured."

"Oh they were, were they? Is your brother a tall chap with gold hair and a nasty right hook?"

Edmund and Lucy started, sharing an alarmed glance before turning back to the smug-looking dwarf. He crossed his arms and leered up at them as if deciding whether or not it was worth it to divulge the reasoning behind his question.

"Yes," said Edmund finally, gaze intent on the little man. He chuckled nastily.

"I saw him," he said vaguely. He turned as if to leave but Edmund grabbed his arm and spun him back around.

"Where? What happened? Was Susan there, too?" he asked urgently, both hands on the dwarf's shoulders. Lucy stood tensely, waiting. The dwarf pushed Edmund's hands away.

" Susan," he said thoughtfully. "Yes, I thought it might be. And it would explain the sword, and the mercenaries capturing them…"

He trailed off, eyes lighting greedily. Glancing back up at the two Pevensies, he rubbed his hands together.

"I'm afraid that information will cost you," he said. Edmund let out a strangled growl and grabbed the dwarf's shoulders again, breath hitching furiously as he shook the creature.

"Where are they?" he demanded. The dwarf tried to push him away but this time Edmund held fast, his grip tight on his stocky frame.

"Get your hands off of me, boy!" he roared. When Edmund did not the dwarf dealt a forceful blow to his stomach and the young king cried out, gasping and relinquishing his hold as he dropped to his knees. Lucy rushed forward to help him but he had drawn his sword, tackling the dwarf to the ground and pinning him there as he held the blade near his neck.

"Edmund, stop!" cried Lucy. Her brother was taking gasping little breaths but his eyes were filled with a venomous fury.

"What did you see?" Edmund shouted. "Where are they?"

The dwarf was looking surprised for the first time, his eyes open wide in shock as he lay on the damp ground. He made a move for Peter's sword but Edmund shifted and caught his hand, glaring heatedly down at him. After a moment of apparent indecision the dwarf opened his mouth to speak.

"West of here," he spat. "Zale's mercenaries were trying to take them somewhere. I say trying because your brother was putting up an impressive fight. Took five men to bring him down even though he didn't have a sword."

"Bring him down? What do you mean?" Edmund asked, the angry edge gone from his voice. He was looking rather pale and tired now, his breath coming irregularly as he recovered from the dwarf's blow.

"Knocked him out," the dwarf said impatiently. "Now will you get off me, lad?"

"Not yet. What of Susan? Was she there?"

"Yes," the dwarf said, attempting to squirm away from his captor. Lucy took a threatening step forward and he desisted. "Out cold. She was being carried by one of those filthy humans. Not in good shape."

Edmund let out a long breath and got shakily to his feet, sheathing his blade. Lucy watched as the dwarf scrambled upright and glared wrathfully at both of them.

"Are you finished assaulting me?" he asked irately.

"Give back the sword," Lucy commanded.

"I'll keep it if I like, lassie," he growled. "Let your brother come and claim it himself."

"Give it here," she insisted, holding out her hands and fixing him with as cold a stare as she could muster. He snorted derisively and curled his lip.

"It's too big a toy for a snip like you. Keep your pretty little dagger and leave the real weapons to the real men."

Lucy opened her mouth and closed it soundlessly, her mind awash in righteous fury. The dwarf laughed maliciously at the expression on her face and stroked Rhindon's hilt with a fond look. Tensing, Edmund looked as if he might attack him again, but at the last minute he seemed to change his mind and instead met Lucy's eyes, sending a clear message: _this is your battle._

"Give it to me," Lucy hissed. This time, she held out her dagger menacingly and advanced slightly. Her brother copied the gesture, his hand tight on his own weapon. The dwarf looked from one to the other as if weighing options. Then, in an entirely unexpected gesture, he turned on his heel and sprinted away, boots tearing up the forest floor behind him as he crashed through the undergrowth and away from them. The two monarchs gave a yell and took off after him.

_More running, _thought Lucy bitterly as the forest rushed past her.


	22. Twenty Two

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just melt every time I read anything about them.

**Author's Note: **30,000 word mark, so I'm due for another note! Again, a huge thank-you to all you lovely reviewers. You really have no idea how much it means to me, especially when you take the time to write out just what it is you like or don't like about it. To all you who are having cardiac arrests 'cause of the whole Peter and Susan deal, just hold your horses and I'll get there eventually. Patience is a virtue. Just ask Tumnus, he waited over 100 years for Aslan to show up. Anyway. Off you go, let me know what you think, I'll try my best to keep up the breakneck pace I've been updating at.

* * *

They caught up with the dwarf at a larger tributary of the Cappis river, a fast-flowing stream too wide and deep for the thief to cross quickly. As they burst from the trees he whirled around with a look of grim resignation and tugged Rhindon from his belt, holding it before him with considerable effort.

"Not a step closer," he barked. Lucy slowed but did not stop, unsure of how well her opponent could a weapon so heavy for him. In contrast, Edmund did not even slow his pace but drew his sword immediately and charged the little man with a yell. The dwarf clumsily parried. Edmund swung his blade again and this time the dwarf was not quick enough; the sword stung his arm and he dropped Rhindon, yelping in pain. Instantly, Lucy was there by their feet, retrieving the stolen weapon and pulling it away from the greedy clutches of the dwarf.

He growled angrily, one hand on his injured arm, looking from Lucy to Edmund and back again, seeming to be making some sort of a decision. Edmund sheathed his sword once he saw that Lucy had a firm grasp on Rhindon and gazed crossly down at the dwarf.

"There you have it, thief," he said. "Justice."

And Lucy would have been filled with pride at that moment if the dwarf had not launched himself at her brother, wrapping his hands around his neck and hurling him to the ground with more strength than she thought possible. Edmund cried out in fear and pain as the dwarf dragged him towards the stream and plunged his head into the water. He held it there with a foot while the young king struggled to breathe, his body jerking uncontrollably with his head beneath the surface.

"The sword, lass!" he roared at Lucy, pointing to Rhindon. "The sword or your brother, what'll it be?"

Lucy stood frozen to the ground. Of course she valued Edmund over the weapon, but it seemed so…so _important _to have it, a sign that their brother would return to them…if there was a way to keep it without harming Edmund…

She hefted Peter's sword experimentally. It was heavy but she could lift it, and she did so, holding it before her as if to give it to the dwarf. When the little man stepped forward to take it she instead swung it with all her strength. It bounced off his mail tunic and he gave a cruel laugh, digging his foot further into Edmund's neck, forcing his head further under. The boy's struggles were growing feebler and bubbles were rising from the water. Lucy realized he was drowning. And that, more than anything, was the reason she did what she did next.

With a furious yell, Lucy cast aside Rhindon for her dagger and leapt forward, burying it in the dwarf's chest. His eyes opened wide in shock before they rolled back up in his head and he crashed back into the river, where the current peeled him from the banks and pushed him away. Lucy threw herself down on her knees beside Edmund, who had stopped moving entirely. With her heart in her throat she seized him by the shoulders and hauled him from the water.

He was deathly pale, every freckle stark against his dripping, white face. His eyes were closed as if in sleep but Lucy could tell immediately that he wasn't breathing. Frantically, she rolled him onto his back and pushed hard upon his stomach, horrified at the amount of water that issued from his mouth when she did so. After three or four tries, he began to cough weakly. She bent to repeat her motion but he caught her hand and rolled on his side, hacking up stream water. Lucy hovered anxiously by his side, rubbing his back even though she knew he couldn't feel it through the chain mail. Finally, Edmund shuddered feebly and slumped on his side, his breathing labored and his face still colorless.

Lucy came around in front of him, watching her brother worriedly. A long moment passed. At last, his dark lashes lifted from his cheeks and he looked out at her with dulled eyes, a frail but grateful half-grin on his face.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely, and coughed more. When the fit subsided he gingerly propped himself up on his elbows and looked around. His gaze darkened. "Rhindon?"

"Here," she said. She reached over and pulled the heavy weapon towards them. As swords went, it actually wasn't very heavy, and she was more than capable of carrying it, but lifting and wielding it was another matter. Lucy felt a random surge of admiration for Peter.

"Good," murmured Edmund. He took it from her and attempted to stand on his own, but at the last second he fell to one side. Lucy stood rapidly and caught him halfway down. He wrapped an arm around his sister's shoulders and leaned on her appreciatively, offering her a weak smile.

"Where to?" Lucy asked.

"Anywhere but here," he replied humorlessly. They moved on, Edmund half-draped on Lucy's shoulders, Lucy bearing both his weight and carrying Rhindon with her dagger pushed into her belt. This time they did not speak as they pushed their way through the underbrush, because the elder was still suffering coughing fits frequently while the younger was putting all her effort into supporting her brother and staying upright.

They traveled aimlessly for several hours. Often they were forced to rest, sometimes because Edmund would have a particularly bad spasm and have to sit until it passed, sometimes because Lucy simply couldn't carry the extra burden for the long amounts of time through the rough terrain. When the sun began to graze the treetops and the light grew dimmer, they began looking for a place more sheltered from the cool wind. A grassy knoll with sharp rock outcroppings provided this. They staggered towards it, finally collapsing beneath the shelter of the rocks.

Edmund slid his arm off Lucy's shoulder and carefully half-sat, half-fell on the soft grass. He was looking marginally better than he had earlier that day; the color had returned to his cheeks and he was breathing more normally. His sister watched him for a moment, making sure he was all right, then lay Peter's sword down at his side and hurried away, calling over her shoulder,

"I'll go and find us some dinner."

Lucy heard his protests change to hopeless warnings about not wandering off as she headed off in search of food. The woods were rapidly growing darker around her. Picking her way through the undergrowth, she caught a glimpse of a fruit-bearing tree not far off and made her way towards it, noting that the strange fruits looked and smelled ripe although she had never seen them before. She plucked several from the trees and carried them in her skirt (this was made difficult by the mail that lay over it). A few minutes later she was back at their resting place.

She dropped to the ground wearily, rolling her prizes out from her dress and presenting Edmund with a few. He picked one up, sniffed at it experimentally and gave her a quizzical look.

"What is this?" he asked. She shrugged.

"It's better than nothing." And this was true, so she polished one on her sleeve and took an experimental bite. The fruit, which was the color of a plum but fuzzy like a peach and larger than either one, tasted tangy and slightly bitter but was good enough for their hungry mouths. The siblings finished it hungrily, still wanting for something more substantial, but night was approaching fast and they had to rest. Even at that moment, they knew the other half of their family could be in grave danger.

Lucy lay down next to Edmund under the rocks and shivered faintly. Noting this, he drew a protective arm around her and they huddled close together for warmth, breath frosting in the chilly air. It seemed so long ago that they stood on the deck of their little ship, drenched in sunlight, away from the cold northern wind and the dangers that had come with it. Pushing her face into the crook of her brother's neck, Lucy drew her cloak tight about herself and wished fervently that tomorrow would be the day they found Peter and Susan.

"Good night, Lucy," Edmund said softly, hugging her securely to his chest. She could feel his voice resonating in his throat because her forehead was pressed there.

"Good night, Ed," she mumbled hazily, before drifting into a troubled sleep. In the deepening darkness, her brother lay for a longer time until he at least succumbed to his drowsiness, too. The forest, silent and (seemingly) lifeless, would watch overits King and Queen until they awoke the next morning.


	23. Twenty Three

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just...well, you'll have to read and find out this time.

* * *

Lucy awoke in the early hours to the frightening feeling of Edmund's chest convulsing beneath her head as he suffered through a long and painful bout of coughing and wheezing. Sliding her head away from him, she shook his shoulders roughly and blinked the sleep from her eyes.

"Ed," she mumbled insistently. "Sit up, Ed, you'll feel better."

He did, somewhat reluctantly, holding his stomach as he tried to suppress the fit. Lucy put a hand on the back of his neck since he wouldn't feel one on his back. When at last his breathing returned to a shaky but regular pattern, she stood and helped her older brother to his feet, then bent and retrieved Rhindon from where it lay in the grass. Edmund reached out to try and take it from her, but she fixed him with a glare and drew it away from him.

"If today is like yesterday, I'm carrying it," she said irately. He shrugged his shoulders, muffling a cough in his arm, and looked back up through sleepy eyes.

" Breakfast?" he asked feebly.

"Not yet," she answered, checking to make sure her dagger was in place before striding confidently in the first direction that sparked her fancy. "First food we come to you can eat."

Edmund followed her, much more steady on his feet than the day before. She cast a glance in his direction to make sure he was capable of walking, then led the way through the forest yet again. About fifteen minutes later they came to a collection of low bushes that bore something vaguely reminiscent of blackberries, ate their fill and moved on. Lucy didn't know quite whether she had any hope for finding the centaurs left. They had probably given up searching now, after two days, although with the monarchs missing they might have called up the army in suspicion of foul play.

Her thoughts drifted back to her oldest brother and sister. If the dwarf (she remembered him with an angry shudder that made Edmund ask if she was all right) hadn't been lying, then they hadn't been killed, and if they hadn't been killed there was good reason to assume that they wouldn't be killed at all. Still, the thought of either of them in the grasp of the twisted mercenaries that had so nearly captured them all made her made a deep and unfamiliar anger burn in the pit of her stomach. She furrowed her brow and journeyed on.

Remembering more of the dwarf's words, she felt a pang of worry. He'd said Susan wasn't in good shape. Lucy had seen many people survive wounds like Susan's, but if left unattended it could grow infected and if infected…she didn't want to think about it. Only one option was permissible, and that was rescuing them. Aslan knew they'd earned it a thousand times over, what with Susan keeping them from doing anything unbelievably reckless and Peter rushing to save their backs countless times in the few years they'd been in Narnia.

"Lu?" Edmund asked suddenly, jolting her out of her daydreams. He sounded slightly worried. She looked back over her shoulder at him, then turned around completely at the look on his face. He was holding his head high, eyes intent on space as if trying to hear something very far off.

"What is it, Ed?"

He stayed frozen for a moment more before tilting his head to one side and giving her a half-confused, half-alarmed look.

"Do you smell smoke?"

"No," she said instantly, but she sniffed anyway. Her eyes opened wide in surprise. "Yes!"

It was, unmistakably, the smell of a fire. The faintest whiff of burning wood was being carried towards them on the light wind, just barely noticeable amid the stronger smells of decaying plants and the other natural processes of the forest.

"A campfire," exclaimed Lucy optimistically. She looked over at Edmund, who had just said "a forest fire," and frowned slightly even as he grinned hopelessly and shrugged his shoulders.

"We'd better look into it," he said. She nodded, pausing for a moment to find out which way the wind was blowing, then changed her course to go against it and probably to where the smell was coming from. Edmund ran a step to walk beside her. After about ten minutes, the smoke in the air was thickening and Lucy felt a small amount of discomfort when breathing. Sharing a glance with her brother, they began to keep their eyes open for a blaze, contained or not, unease growing as they realized that it was too much smoke to just be a campfire.

By the time they figured out where it was coming from, there wasn't much hope of escaping it. There was a flicker of flame to their right, then another to their right and yet another ahead of them, and suddenly it was closing in on them from every side, eating up the trees greedily. Lucy unconsciously stepped back to grab Edmund's arm fearfully as three sides of her vision were consumed by ravenous tongues of fire. It happened so abruptly that it rendered her completely unable to think. She could only stare in horror, clutching Rhindon with one hand and her brother with the other, paralyzed at the sight of the rapidly spreading blaze.

Edmund, conversely(1), snapped into action the instant he perceived the danger. Grabbing hold of his sister's arm he pulled her back the way they'd come, breaking into a run and heading for the gap in the forest that had not yet been consumed by the fire. She stumbled along at his side, trying to match his longer strides as he dragged her to safety. But all of a sudden her feet collided with something unseen, and the thought that she must not have been looking at the ground properly passed through her head before she was face-first on it, her hand wrenched from Edmund's.

"Lucy!" he shouted, turning back his heel and dropping to his knees. He hoisted her up by the shoulders but she staggered forward, dazed, unbalanced by the weapon she still resolutely held on to. He attempted to take it from her but she shook her head and blinked hard; once, twice, then she was off running again with Edmund just ahead.

The tiny delay had cost them their escape. Lucy's stomach plummeted as she glimpsed the flames cut off the last bit of underbrush not already consumed. But her brother did not stop; instead he pulled her arm more insistently and quite nearly threw her across the barrier of fire. She screamed as the heat washed over her in a boiling wave but scrambled further away, now thankfully on the other side, out of the deadly circle. A second later saw Edmund bursting through behind her, yanking her to her feet and sprinting outright with his sister racing behind him.

Something burst from the undergrowth beside them. Lucy felt it slam into her side painfully, and then she was again falling down to the earth, a frantic cry for help escaping her lips. When she regained enough sense to open her eyes and see what it was she saw the foul, twisted face of a goblin looming above her, wearing a grey cloak just like the ones the mercenaries had been wearing. It whipped out a long knife and looked about to slit her throat but suddenly Edmund threw himself at it bodily. The two rolled off Lucy, her brother now with sword drawn and began to grapple with each other, furious yells ripping from their throats.

Struggling to her feet, Lucy looked up to see more grey-cloaked figures heading towards them, the fire cutting off their escape in the other direction. Already the smoke was making her feel heavy and tired, her thinking less clear, and her limbs, they took so much effort to hold up…she shook her head vigorously and hefted Rhindon. She held the weapon before her with what she hoped was a threatening look.

"Stay back," she began, but she began to cough violently. The air was so thick! Edmund rose to his feet beside her, sword dripping with goblin blood, a nauseated expression written clearly across his face.

"What do you want?" he rasped. His breathing, already made weak from his near-drowning the day before, was coming in ragged gasps now and Lucy was seized by an intense feeling of panic. With the smoke, he certainly wouldn't last much longer.

"Surrender, Son of Adam," a dwarf in the crowd surrounding them called mockingly. The creatures didn't seem to be bothered by the fire at all, but the pulsing heat waves of the nearing flames made Lucy's tired mind reel with a sort of confused pain. The world around her was growing slightly fuzzier, dimmer, and the shimmer of the heat surrounded everything in her vision.

Just as she began to slip into unconsciousness, there came a sun-filled moment when Lucy thought she heard the pounding of centaur hooves. But then there were only the screams of the creatures around her, and she wondered drowsily if Edmund was already on the ground that was rushing up to meet her. Screams, air, heat, scorching, burning, too hot…it all began to slip away. Someone was trying to pry her fingers off the hilt of Rhindon but she would not let go. Finally they desisted, but instead a rough palm descended upon the back of her clenched hand, a palm so familiar that Lucy could somewhat appreciate the delusional state she was in.

"Peter…" she mumbled thickly, and relinquished the weapon to the inquiring hand. The small part of her brain that remained conscious screamed at her to open her eyes and see that it was not her brother, it couldn't be, but then she'd been scooped up into strong arms and carried swiftly away. There was a low, affectionate chuckle that reverberated in the chest she was pushed up against, and then the darkness claimed her.

* * *

(1) No, that wasn't originally intended to be a Skandar Keynes reference, but it cracks me up all the same. 


	24. Twenty Four

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just manipulate them under the influence of less than four hours of sleep. Long chapter, folks!

* * *

The world Lucy woke to was so drastically different from the one she'd lost her consciousness to that at first, she thought that perhaps she really had died in the flames and had passed on to sunnier meadows. The air was unpleasantly cool but she found she no longer had an objection to it. Sitting up carefully, checking herself for injuries (she discovered minor scrapes, bruises and burns, but nothing serious), she looked around her and was shocked to see the red interior of a Narnian military tent. Her throat felt scratchy. 

The tent let in a considerable amount of light, enough to let her know that it was probably midmorning. That meant she'd probably slept for an entire day. Lucy forced herself awake and reluctantly slid her legs from under the thick blankets that were piled upon her, her unwillingness to leave the warm sanctuary overcome by her worried curiosity. Where was Edmund? Who had rescued them? Did they know anything about Peter and Susan?

With a surprised cry of sharp but immediately relenting pain, Lucy found that she'd stubbed her bare toe on her mail tunic, which someone had apparently removed. They hadn't removed her dress, however, and the singed, ripped and dirtied garment was eagerly shed as she found one of the ones she'd left at the riverside laid out for her. She slipped into the fresh gown with a new appreciation for clean clothes. Her boots, still in fairly good condition, were pulled up, laced and finally she reached for her belt, the dagger settling across her waist and the familiar weight of…

Lucy gasped in disbelief. _Impossible! _She pulled it from its leather case, turning the bottle in her hands over and over again, frantic hope fueling her hurried check of its reality. But there it was, clear as day, the crystal cool and smooth against her fingertips, still well more than half-full with its contents. She tucked it back in its holder and dashed from the tent, wincing as the sun stung her eyes. Before she knew it she'd been swept off her feet by the irrationally long arms of a certain sailor who whirled her around once before setting her gently back on the ground and falling into a bow, grinning the whole time.

"Thomas!" she cried delightedly. The gangly young man looked ready to burst into a jig, his eyes dancing with a carefree happiness.

"You're awake, milady," he said, staying where he knelt so that his face was level with hers.

"What are you doing here? Where is _here_? How did my cordial get back? Is Edmund all right? Do you know anything about…"

"So many questions! One at a time, Queen Lucy!" Thomas laughed, holding up a hand. "King Edmund is fine, last I knew he was resting in his tent. Obviously you're at the camp of the army of Aslan, and I am here because Carrul, your centaur friend, sent word that the armies were to be summoned. A number of my crewmates volunteered to bring what you and your siblings might need from the things you'd left at the beach.

"Your cordial is a far more interesting story. There we were on the riverbank, passing the time, when we heard somebody calling for help. A few of us ran to investigate and we found a poor little mermaid being hounded by several rather large, nasty sea nymphs. They were sticking her with their tridents, trying to get her to drop something that she was carrying. Of course, a few other sailors and I jumped down into the river to help, and we ah…" he stopped, apparently unwilling to share exactly what they'd done with Lucy.

"I understand," she said quietly. She had killed now, as well. She couldn't afford to be sensitive about it. He nodded gratefully and continued.

"Well we rescued the mermaid and she asked us if we would take something to Cair Paravel for her. Murray – sorry, crewmate of mine – he asked why she'd be wanting to head up to the Cair, and she replied that she had something important to give to Queen Lucy. Of course we knew you wouldn't be there. We told her we'd take whatever it was she'd found to you, and then she holds out her hands and gives us your belt with the cordial and dagger sheath still attached! Couldn't believe it myself, really, but she said it'd drifted down into her garden one day and that she recognized the engravings. In any case, you've got it now, eh?"

He patted her arm reassuringly, a broad grin on his face. Smiling equally, Lucy felt a new sense of hope welling up within her – at last, there were others there to help them. She was itching to run and show Ed her cordial. Maybe it could even cure that nasty cough of his! Thomas seemed to sense her thoughts, perhaps by noticing that her eyes flicked behind him searchingly, gave another smile and pointed to a red and gold tent to Lucy's right.

"In there," he said, jerking his head in the direction. "Should be awake by now."

She thanked him and practically skipped to the tent, stopping at the entrance to respect her brother's privacy.

"Ed?" she called, bouncing on the balls of her feet eagerly.

"Come on in, Lu," he answered. His voice was hoarse, but there was an unmistakable note of relief and happiness in it. She pushed open the tent-flap and stepped inside, blinking for a moment to adjust to the dimmer light. Edmund sat on a makeshift bed of mismatched blankets. His dark hair was mussed from sleep and he rubbed his eyes blearily, but he was grinning widely, looking almost gleeful, and Lucy didn't know the reason until she realized that they weren't alone in the tent. For a moment she froze up. It was simply too much – rescue, cordial, Thomas, this? – but she heard herself give an elated shriek and hastened to her eldest brother.

"Peter!" she cried ecstatically, throwing herself to her knees and hurling her arms around him. She felt his entire body stiffen at her touch, a badly-masked gasp of pain rushing past her ear, and she quickly drew away to look at him in concern. He gave a forced smile that she guessed was supposed to be dismissive. Edmund had moved from the comfort of his bed to watch his brother's face worriedly, and Lucy knew he was noting the same things she was; Peter sported a wicked cut on the right side of his jaw and several bruises ranging in size and color on his face and neck, disappearing down into his tunic.

"I'm all right," he said, noticing their anxious gazes. "Just a little bruised up."

Lucy caught Edmund's eyes, both knowing full fell that with Peter "a little bruised up" could very well mean "several broken ribs."

"Hey Lu, could you give us a minute?" he asked significantly. She nodded and began to back out.

"No, it's fine, I'm fine, just…" Peter tried to object, but she was already pushing her way out of the tent. She heard him turn his arguments to Edmund. "Ed, no, I'll be, I'll just, no, be reasonable…"

"Hold still, Peter," Lucy heard Edmund say quietly but insistently. The elder continued protesting, babbling a warning to his brother that as High King he could have him punished for disobeying orders, but Edmund merely gave a disdainful 'hmph' and seemed to continue with what he was doing. Suddenly there came an indignant yelp.

"Edmund!"

This was followed by a long silence from the tent, then Edmund gave a dismayed whimper while Peter hissed in pain. Lucy was bursting to know what was going on, plus she had a thousand and one questions to ask the elder. Then abruptly, Edmund had poked his head out from the tent and had a hand on her arm, pulling her back inside.

"No, I don't want her to see…" Peter protested, but he seemed to know it was hopeless. Lucy stepped into the badly lit space again. Her stare was greeted with one very agitated Edmund and one very self-conscious, very shirtless Peter, who was trying to hide the latter quality with bruised arms. His chest, back and arms were mottled in deep blues, purples and greens, yellow tinges spreading across his shoulder blades and scabbed cuts embellishing most of the nastier injuries. Lucy grew faint at the sight of it, her hand instantly flying to her cordial.

"No."

This time, his voice held an authoritative quality like the one he'd ordered them to run with. Lucy knew the matter was closed and dropped her hand limply back to her side.

"I'll…I'll be right back," said Edmund shakily, pushing past Lucy and out of the tent. She turned back to her eldest brother, who was watching her with tired blue eyes. She stood awkwardly as he knelt on his bed, looking worn and defeated.

"Peter?' she asked finally, and he looked up. "Was that you, last night?"

He smiled faintly, running a hand through his hair (she noticed deep red rope burns on his wrists) and shifting to sit on his blankets.

"Yes," he said simply.

"How did you find us?"

"I went looking for trouble," he chuckled. "Not alone, of course. I ran into the centaurs before we came across you." Lucy scratched at her arm uncomfortably.

"Where's Susan?" she asked in a very small voice. Peter gave a shudder and looked away quickly, clenching his eyes briefly shut and refusing to meet her stare.

"Safe, for now," he said hollowly. "It's a long story."

"Well then you can tell us while we clean you up," said Edmund, who had re-entered the tent with a pile of fresh linen, holding one bowl and balancing another in the crook of his elbow. The larger bowl was filled with water while the smaller contained some sort of an herb paste. Lucy took the smaller one from him and together, they knelt by their older brother. Peter looked ready to object but when he met the intense gaze of his younger brother, he swallowed and allowed the two to ease him on his stomach, the cuts and bruises across his back stark against his pale skin.

The High King could not stifle a whimper of pain when the first damp cloth touched his lower back. Squeezing his eyes shut, he let out a long, slow breath and tried to relax into the treatment.

" Susan," he said finally. And he began his story.


	25. Twenty Five

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just check to see if is my computer will let me work every hour, between classes, while I'm supposed to be asleep, and before I get out of bed. A humongous thank you to Mozilla, whose browser I've just switched to since Internet Explorer has failed me one too many times. And apologies for the delay. It frustrated me as much as it frusted you, trust me.

* * *

"I'll start right where you two left. Thank you for that, by the way, thank you for leaving when I asked. Things could have been messy," Peter began.

"As if this isn't," Edmund murmured reprovingly, holding out the water bowl so Lucy could dip the cloth in it again. She gently cleaned away the crusted scab tissue that littered the back her eldest brother's left shoulder and tried to ignore the wincing the action earned.

"I couldn't run, but I could fight," continued Peter through gritted teeth, ignoring Edmund. "I didn't know what they were intending to do with us and I didn't want to find out. I never got a chance to pick up my shield after I'd dropped it, so it didn't take them very long to get my sword, too. I figured out they didn't want to kill me when they didn't do it right away. The bast…blighters were looking ready to head out after you two, though, and I couldn't have that, so I used my fists until they decided I was too much of a nuisance and started playing for real. I didn't last much longer after that."

Lucy and Edmund shared a look, remembering the dwarf's story.

"When I came to it was just getting to be morning. They'd tied my hands and ankles but not Susan's; I suppose they thought she was in bad enough shape that they didn't have to worry. Maybe they thought that being gentle meant being weak. In any case, she was…in a bad way but not unconscious, she managed to get the knife out of my boot and cut the ropes so I could escape. If you can believe it, she actually told me to go without her, but I wasn't about to leave her there. Unfortunately, though, she couldn't walk, so I had to carry her."

He paused here, attempting to conceal a moan of pain as Lucy swept the cloth over the tender flesh on the side of his stomach. It was a dark, sickly blue; when she tried the spot again he tensed and squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his fists in the blankets.

"I'm sorry," she said apologetically, but did not stop. Edmund watched the proceedings with a tight jaw and an angry line in his brow, something deep and vengeful burning in his eyes. Finally Lucy moved on from the spot to clean a shallow cut just below the back of Peter's neck and he relaxed visibly.

"So," he said hoarsely, "I was lucky. I think they'd counted on me being out for longer because there were only two guards and they were rather drowsy. I ah…"

He paused.

"Took care of them," supplied Lucy. "We've had to do a bit of it ourselves, Peter, you can say it."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said quietly. For a moment there was only the sound of the wet cloth sliding across his back and his measured breathing, then at last he resumed his tale.

"I hated to admit it, but I was barely in any shape to be wandering around the forest unarmed, much less carrying my unconscious little sister. I knew I had to find a way to get back and find help. For almost a day I just looked for any sign of life, any clue as to where the blazes I was. Finally I ended up in an old glade, more ancient than anything we've seen so far, and I think untouched by those humans that keep popping up like weeds – _ouch_ – and there were dryads. Several of them, really elderly, female dryads. They gave me something to eat and drink, and offered to help me in whatever way they could."

Peter's eyes clouded over with a sorrowful regret, his features darkening and his head dropping to the blankets. He opened his mouth to continue but instead let out a sharp yell of surprise and pain when Lucy's fingers, coated with the herb paste, touched down on one of his nastier cuts.

"That stings!" he protested, hissing.

Lucy couldn't bear to see her brother hurting this way. She drew back uncertainly, unwilling to continue against his wishes, but suddenly the bowl was pulled from her hands by a heatedly silent Edmund. The younger of her two brothers scooped up a measure of the paste with his fingers, reached down and spread it resolutely across the gash in Peter's back.

"Ed…" he pleaded, eyes screwed shut in agony.

"Keep talking, Peter," Edmund ground out through clenched teeth. Suddenly Lucy found that she was a bit afraid of him. Even though his hands moved firmly and gently over Peter's back, there was a terrible anger in his eyes, mingled with something almost like shame, and it was discomforting. Peter pushed his head further into the bed and spoke again, slightly muffled by the material.

"I had no choice," he said; his tone was hollow and choked around the edges. "I left Susan with the dryads. They said they could take care of her until I found a way back, and I knew I needed to get help before something worse happened."

He stopped, his voice breaking just a little. Lucy swallowed hard, wanting to offer him some sort of comfort but unsure of how to do it without hurting him. Peter bit his lip and let out a shuddering sigh of agony when Edmund lined the raw skin of his shoulder with the paste. The two younger Pevensies gave their brother's back a long, concerned and appraising look before each took a hold of one of his arms and helped him to gingerly turn himself over. Lucy picked up the water bowl, Ed the cloth, and together they began to clean the dried blood and scabs from his chest. Closing his eyes, Peter frowned unhappily and continued speaking.

"Apparently the dryads also spread the word that I was out and about, because Carrul and his companions found me later that night. I told them they needed to call up the army. But they already knew, they'd found my shield and Susan's bow surrounded by numerous dead bodies along with the obvious signs of a struggle, and were able to connect two and two. We were just heading to this camp when we saw the fire – it was set, of course – and you. The rest I think you know."

He opened his eyes in time to see his siblings nod in acknowledgement. Several long moments passed, silent except for the _splish _of the cloth into the water and an occasional sign of discomfort from Peter as he allowed Lucy and Edmund to cleanse his injuries. After a time the former glanced at her oldest brother's face, then did a double-take when she thought she saw the glistening of tears in his blue eyes. Determinedly, he looked anywhere but at her, gaze wandering to the top of the tent. She stayed kneeling, unmoving and feeling quite awkward.

"Peter?" she asked finally, a fearful tremble in her voice. Edmund looked up sharply, caught by the waver in his sister's question. For a moment, Peter didn't answer, but when he did his words were thick with emotion.

"I've been a horrible brother," he whispered. Lucy knew that if it had been a storybook moment, she would have slapped him, but understanding that it was probably the last thing he needed, she bit her tongue instead.

"Shut up, Peter," said Edmund succinctly. There was a short, tense silence.

"I never should have brought you all along. It's too dangerous. Now Susan is in the hands of peace-loving, unarmed dryads while murderers roam the forests unchecked. I let it happen."

"Shut up, Peter," said Lucy, reaching down to lift one of his chafed wrists. He twitched as she began to wash the dirt from the burns.

"That's not exactly comforting," he said, but there was the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.

"No," agreed Edmund, "but it's a good deal more sensible than you're being. Hold still."

He applied a small amount of herb paste to a scratch that traveled from Peter's throat to his navel as his brother squirmed.

"Tickles," muttered Peter defensively. "And hurts."

Finally, Lucy was satisfied with their work. Peter's torso was still covered in bruises and cuts, but there was no risk of infection now, and the cold water might help to keep the swelling down. She wrung the linen cloth out, then set it down and helped him sit up. Edmund handed him his tunic, which he pulled over his head thankfully, but the younger wasn't finished yet. He forcibly seized Peter's chin and grabbed the cloth again, quickly cleaning the cut along his brother's jaw with a furious concentration. Peter eyed the motion with a sort of surprised indignity, but when Edmund's hand slid from his face to wrap around his shoulders in a gentle hug, he relaxed, smiled and ruffled Ed's dark hair affectionately. When he pulled away he next turned to Lucy, who kissed his cheek.

"If you ever tell us you've been a horrible brother again, we'll have to change your title to King Peter the Untruthful," she joked. Peter laughed and Edmund smiled wryly.

"Thank you," said Peter quietly, rolling his shoulders back and wincing at the _pop_ that sounded.

"And now we find Susan," Lucy said. Her eldest brother smiled fondly.

"Yes," he agreed. "Now we find Susan."


	26. Twenty Six

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just borrow Rhindon every once in a while to stab angrily at writer's block and math homework.

* * *

Lucy was glad to see the faithful Narnian soldiers rallying to their King's side, even it was only a very small group thus far. There were fewer than two dozen tents set up, and about fifty soldiers had reported for duty. Food had begun to arrive from various locations. Orieus, centaur general of the army, was expected to turn up within a few days, but Peter explained that it wasn't a matter of war yet because they didn't know the aims of the enemy. No one they'd spoken to had ever heard of Queen Zale, or even of Castle Lake. It wasn't on any map.

Mysterious though it was, the three Pevensies in the camp had other things on their minds. Chief among these was the fact that there were only three of them when there ought to be four. The Pevensies were keen to set off immediately, but Carrul was the only one who knew the way back to the glade, and the centaur refused to tell them anything or lead them anywhere until he'd seen them sit down and eat something.

"You are my King," he'd said to Peter sternly. "I will not allow you to bring harm to yourself."

Edmund awarded his brother a careful nudge and a half-hearted glare.

An hour later saw Lucy, her brothers, Thomas, two centaurs (including Carrul) and a faun armored and equipped, ready to set out. She and Ed promised to tell Peter how they found his sword once they got going; none of the three were particularly keen on wasting any time. And so the little party set out into the woods with Carrul at its head. Noting that Thomas was chatting with the faun amiably, Lucy walked between her two brothers for a time and began to help Ed in informing Peter of their own exploits. When they reached the part where the dwarf had attempted to drown Edmund, Peter stopped walking and looked at them both with a look of incredulous alarm.

"You couldn't just give him the sword?" he said, as if it was the most blindingly obvious thing ever asked. Lucy glanced at Edmund, who blinked slowly.

"No," he replied bewilderedly. "It wasn't his."

"It's only a sword, Ed! It's not worth your life!"

"It's _your _sword."

"Edmund!" Peter had an incredibly exasperated look on his face. Lucy suppressed the urge to giggle.

"What?" said Ed defensively.

"You…you know bloody well what!" Peter sputtered. "You could have been killed! Killed, Ed! For a sharpened bit of metal with a handle!"

"It's your sword," said Edmund, as if it explained everything. Lucy looked from one brother to the other, reading their expressions quite easily – neither had any clue as to what was going on in the other's head. She couldn't help it any longer, and a short peal of laughter escaped the hand she clapped over her mouth. They turned to look at her in equal bewilderment and a little annoyance.

"You two are hopeless," she said. Edmund quirked one eyebrow, which only made her laugh harder, and the stubbornly noble expression on Peter's face certainly did nothing to help. Her brothers shared a baffled look before shrugging their shoulders and continuing on their way, now lagging a bit behind the group. Lucy followed them and performed a sort of half-skip to walk again in between the two. Peter kept stealing glances at the sword that hung at his hip, then at Ed, occasionally shaking his head.

"Anyway," he said finally, sounding resigned. "Go on."

They finished their story soon after. Peter told them both that he was proud of them (Lucy swelled, Edmund rolled his eyes and tried his best not to look pleased). After they'd been walking in silence for a while longer, Thomas slowed his pace to come beside them.

"Lovely chaps, fauns," he said happily. " Never seen one before I came up to Narnia."

"When was that?" asked Lucy.

"Two weeks after your coronation, milady. You know that a long, long time ago there were humans here, but they were all driven away by the Witch. Well my family was one of those who fled to Archenland hundreds and hundreds of years ago, and we'd been waiting ever since for Narnia to become safe again. The minute we got word that four new Kings and Queens had defeated the Witch, we packed up our things and moved to our ancestral home. It was a great day indeed."

"We didn't exactly defeat the witch, you know," she said with a gentle frown. "It was Aslan."

"All the same," he shrugged. "It was a great day."

Lucy smiled and walked on through the woods. Ed had come around to walk by Peter and the two were talking quietly, so she looked back up at Thomas.

"Don't you miss Archenland?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "Not so much the land as the people. I was about your sister's age when I left, and I had friends back there."

"But you have friends here, too, don't you?"

"Of course. But you know, there are some people in your life you just can't replace."

Lucy could not help but agree with that.

"Do you ever visit them?" she asked.

"I've visited twice since I left. It's a hard journey by sea and a long one by land, so it's not very convenient. I lived in the south, far away from the Narnian border."

The conversation lulled for a while, and they walked without talking. About four hours after they'd set out, they stopped for lunch in a shaded glen. The packs they'd been fitted with held a canteen of water, a small loaf of bread and a measured portion of cheese; they took about half of what they had and supplemented it with raspberries from a nearby bush. Plopping down on Edmund's right, Lucy unscrewed the top of her canteen and took a long drink. It was deliciously cool and refreshing.

"How far away is this glen, Peter?" asked Edmund, taking out his own water.

"I can't really know," his brother replied. "I took a rather wandering route to get back. Probably at least another half day's march."

"I wonder what Susan's doing," said Lucy thoughtfully, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. Her brothers turned to stare at her, a little surprised by the spontaneous comment. Neither said anything for a moment.

"I expect she's asleep," Peter said finally, his voice quiet and his eyes downcast. Edmund suddenly set down his canteen with more enthusiasm than was necessary. He glared at his older brother.

"Oh, buck up, Peter," he said irritably. "We're on our way, there's no use moping about it."

"Edmund!" Lucy reprimanded.

"One thing goes wrong and you act as if your world's come to an end. You don't have to blame yourself for everything, Peter."

"But this _was _my fault. If I had only…"

"Just shut up, will you? You've always got to be the bloody hero! You're too bloody willing to take a sword through the heart if it will save someone else a scratch! Will you just stop and think about yourself for one minute? One bloody minute, Peter?"

"Language, Ed!"

"I'll use whatever language I bloody well please!"

"Stop fighting!" Lucy said sternly. She was on her feet now, glaring disapprovingly down at her brothers. The other members of the party were watching the Pevensies with varying degrees of interest, their attention caught by the disturbance. Lucy crossed her arms over her chest. "This isn't going to help anyone."

There was a long, empty silence. Finally Peter sighed, pushing a hand through his hair, and looked up at his youngest sister.

"You're right," he said dejectedly. "I'm sorry, Lu."

Edmund didn't say anything. Instead he looked at the ground resolutely, tearing off a piece of bread with his teeth and avoiding eye contact with anyone. The rest of the meal was passed without conversation. Everyone was quite tense. Finally, they packed up the rest of their food and slung it back over their shoulders, preparing for another several hours' walk. Lucy just hoped whatever had brought on Ed's outburst wouldn't make him do anything rash.


	27. Twenty Seven

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just relate them to every aspect of my pathetic life, and attempt at every moment to overcome any obstacle that prevents me from seeing the movie.

* * *

It seemed that the longer they traveled, the denser and healthier the forest became. An hour after they'd left their lunch site, the ground was a rich brown and the trees were truly flourishing, and it really felt like Narnian summer there beneath the canopy. It was warmer than before, somehow; the rain of several days before had completely dried up. Lucy would have appreciated it much more if Edmund hadn't been making a point of avoiding Peter. When two hours had passed and Carrul called a rest, she decided to take matters in her own hands. After all, if Susan wasn't there to knock some sense into their brothers, it was up to her.

"Edmund," she said in her most grown-up voice, approaching him where he leaned against a tree. He looked up warily.

"Yes, Lu?"

"Why aren't you speaking to Peter?"

He frowned, eyes flickering around the area. Peter was conversing with Carrul a ways off, probably out of earshot if they talked quietly. After a brief moment he returned his gaze to his younger sister.

"Because he's being a bloody mule right now," Edmund said crossly.

"He's just worried," said Lucy, feeling the need to defend her eldest brother. After all he'd been through recently, he certainly didn't need a cold shoulder from Ed as well.

"That's just it, isn't it? He's always worried," snapped Edmund, suddenly rounding on Lucy with a rather angry look. "He's so worried about everyone else that he's running himself into the ground. Sometimes I don't understand him at all, Lu."

"He's just…just trying to be a good older brother," said Lucy nervously. She was a little afraid that Ed was going to become irritated with her, too.

"No, he's trying to be a king and a leader and a protector and a brother all at once," he said heatedly. "I promised Peter I would watch his back, and right now his most dangerous enemy is his bloody hero complex, or maybe his wretched habit of taking the brunt of everything. I swear, if he…"

"What are we talking about?"

Edmund looked up sharply, an alarmed and guilty expression flashing across his face before he composed himself. Lucy didn't doubt that Peter knew exactly what he had been talking about, but guessed that he didn't want a direct confrontation. If she knew him, he would bring it up later, away from the ears of those whose business it was not.

"Nothing," muttered Ed, slouching against the tree. His brother gave him a look before turning to Lucy.

"You've got your cordial, right?" She nodded. " Susan will need it. Carrul says we're but a few hours off."

Lucy and Edmund both brightened at this, though the latter of the two tried to turn the excited jerk of his head into a check of the bushes, as if he'd seen something in them. The corner of Lucy's mouth twitched amusedly. She pulled out her canteen, taking a drink from it and then replacing it in the satchel she carried over her shoulder. The party rested for several more minutes before Peter began to look impatient, and Carrul called for a move on. Edmund straightened out and hefted his pack, ambling over to where his older brother stood.

"You sure you're ready?" he asked stiffly. He followed this with a deliberate glance at Lucy, as if to say '_I'm making an effort. Good enough?'_ She gave him a small smile.

"Yes," said Peter, grinning. Because gauntleted hands made for bad hair-mussing, he settled for a one-armed hug, which caused Edmund to make a face, but he didn't pull away. As they headed out, Lucy falling into stride beside Thomas, she watched her brothers with a fond look.

"Ed, about the sword?" she heard Peter say. Edmund frowned and tried to escape the arm around his shoulder.

"Look, I don't want to talk about it. Rhindon's practically an extension of your arm. I wasn't about to leave it behind."

Peter only pulled him closer, and Lucy just barely caught the next comment.

"Maybe it's a part of my arm," murmured Peter secretively, into Ed's ear, "but I could hardly hold a sword without my right hand - my little brother. Hm?"

Thomas and Lucy shared a look as Edmund gently shoved his brother away, a sheepish flush creeping across his face.

"Oh, come off it, Peter," he muttered darkly, but Lucy couldn't help but think that he looked rather flattered. She grinned.

They'd been walking for another five minutes, not one person speaking, when Thomas abruptly began to hum a simple, flowing tune. The second centaur in the party shot him an irritated glance, which made Lucy giggle, but the faun looked up appreciatively; the young queen walked beside her friend and listened for a moment longer. When he'd finished she asked him what it was.

"An old song, milady," he replied, smiling. "A sailor's tune."

"Oh!" said Lucy. "I should like to hear the words."

"As you wish," said Thomas, offering her a mock bow even as he walked. "But we'd best ask if it's all right to sing, first. What's the name of that centaur chap? I can never remember."

"Carrul!" called Lucy, and the centaur stopped to turn and face her. "Is it safe to be singing? I mean, will anyone be bothered?" He gave her an impassive look.

"I can't see why not," he replied. He sounded less than enthused, but then again centaurs weren't known for their appreciation of music. As they continued on, she nodded to Thomas, who then opened his mouth and sang in a clear tenor:

_"Across the sea and far away, _

_When daylight comes a-creepin', _

_You'll find a cabin, small and warm, _

_Inside, my lass a-sleepin'. _

_Her hair as fine as new-spun silk, _

_Her laugh like bells a-ringin', _

_My lass as true as e'er was, _

_My song her praises singin'." _

This went on for many verses, each one varying slightly in tune, Thomas occasionally using his hands as percussion. Lucy watched him in fascination, his black eyes sparkling in the sunlight that filtered through the trees as he sang out. Finally he took a deep breath and began the last verse.

"_Across the sea and far away, _

_Love's illness has me taken, _

_For though I'm hers, she'll not be mine; _

_And so my heart's a- breakin'." _

Lucy smiled despite the text (the tune was still quite merry) and threw her arms about her friend, talking quickly and excitedly. He shuffled his feet and looked modest but glowed with pride anyway.

"That was lovely!" exclaimed the faun, who'd come up to walk beside them when Thomas had begun singing.

"A high compliment indeed, coming from one such as yourself," said Thomas gratefully.

"Oh, do sing another," Lucy requested. The centaur muttered mutinously, but kept his silence.

Three hours and many, many songs later (with long talks in between, of course), even Peter was beginning to become annoyed. Finally he stopped walking, turning around to face the giddy pair with an uncharacteristically impatient look.

"Can we get a moment of peace, here?" he pleaded. Lucy burst out laughing at his expression, which only made him look even more exasperated. Edmund turned around, and far less apologetically said,

"What our dear brother is trying to say, Lu, is _shut up."_ Despite the irritation in his voice, he still looked amused. She sank into a curtsey, staggering slightly at the weight of her mail shirt.

"I hear and obey, O King Edmund the Unappreciative," she said, her voice slightly hoarse from the nonstop talking. The faun, whose name was Renlin, stifled a laugh, but after that there was nothing but the sound of leaves crunching beneath their feet and the _clink _of chain mail and armor. The sun had passed its peak in the sky. It was slowly descending, the late-afternoon light bringing out the vivid colors of the wood, bathing everything in a warm, rich glow. Strangely enough, Lucy felt even more hopeful as it sank lower and lower. Soon, she told herself. Not long now until their family was reunited.

She glanced at her brothers and found that they, too, were looking more and more eager the longer they walked. Her legs were sore and tired but she felt more inspired than she had all day. Shifting her belt so that she could keep a hand on her cordial, she increased her pace and began to watch for any trees that she could honestly call more ancient than any others she'd seen. They were moving west, she knew, and a little south; probably two day's walk from what used to be the Witch's castle. Lucy was suddenly jerked out her daydreams by Carrul.

"Majesties," he said, and halted. The rest of the party stopped and faced him. For a moment, the grey centaur's face held the barest flicker of a warm smile. "Here the rest of us stop. Carry on through these trees for a few more minutes and you will find your sister."

Even Edmund could not hide his excitement. The three siblings exchanged an expectant look.

"Thank you," said Peter, his hand tight upon the hilt of his sword. As Ed and Lu hurried to come beside him, he led the way through the underbrush with a new sense of urgency. Lucy looked wonderingly up at the trees, which were taller than any others they'd seen so far. True to Peter's word, they seemed to be incredibly ancient, mysterious and looming in the gathering darkness; the siblings hurried through their shadow for several minutes, not speaking. Just when it seemed the forest could not grow any denser, the sylvan environment gave way to a perfectly circular grove with one immense old tree in the very center. In the cradle of its roots were several wrinkled dryads. They looked up at the sound of the three monarchs approaching, exchanged knowing smiles, and parted to let them through.

"Welcome, Your Highnesses," said one in a whispery tone, her long white hair flowing over her bare shoulders. She was acknowledged with a small nod from Peter, but all three had eyes only for the figure who lay, still as death, between the roots of the great tree.

" Susan," said Lucy breathily, and flew to her sister's side.


	28. Twenty Eight

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just finally, finally reunited them.

**Author's Note: **Forty thousand words. It's a miracle. Thanks again to my wonderful reviewers, you make me feel wanted and loved and want to update more often. And I'm sorry I haven't been quite at the breakneck pace of before, I've had a lot of schoolwork. I sacrificed my math grade for you, though, so...yes.

I have a fanart! It's -cough- lovely. It's of the scene in chapter eighteen where Susan is first stabbed, and Peter tells Ed and Lucy to run. You can look at it at http/i32 .photobucket. com/ albums/ d47/ Capegio/ Typo.jpg minus the spaces. And now, if you've clicked that, I'm sure you'll notice that I'm being made fun of, which is fine with me. Baaad typo, and I'd been warned about it - look closely at the original sentence: "The moment was shattered when the butt of the spear-wielding man who had initiated the battle rammed into Peter's stomach..." Le sigh. I really did mean the spearbutt, folks. Thank you to Narnian Walrus and her friend Sheep for mercilessly making fun of me. ;.; I fixed it, all right!

* * *

Lucy felt her throat tighten as she fell to her knees next to her sister. She looked so inexplicably peaceful that for one heart-stopping moment, Lucy had thought she was dead. But her chest rose and fell ever so slightly, testifying that despite her pallid face and otherwise still form, she was still living. Swallowing hard, Lucy swiftly drew her cordial from its pouch and fumbled with the top, finally unscrewing it and placing a hand beneath Susan's head to lift it; when the single drop of rosy liquid slid past her chapped lips, a shudder ran through her body. Peter and Edmund hovered anxiously. A long, nauseating moment passed. At last Susan frowned, eyes still closed, one hand creeping to feel the place on her leg where she'd been stabbed. 

"Don't be stupid, Peter," she muttered drowsily, apparently unaware of her surroundings. "I'll be just fine. Go find Ed and Lu."

He knelt by her side. To say he looked relieved would be a gross understatement, thought Lucy as he pulled Susan's hand into both of his, a sputtering laugh escaping his lips.

"I did, Su," he said earnestly. Her eyes fluttered open, brow still creased in confusion. Lucy and Peter helped her to sit up and she blinked several times, unaccustomed to the light, finally focusing on Edmund, who was still standing and looking down on her with a grin.

"Ed?" she asked bewilderedly. He flopped down by her feet, holding his sword out of the way as he did so.

"'Lo, Susan," he said. She looked down at her left hand, still enveloped in both of Peter's, then followed it to his face. He looked ready to cry. A small, bemused smile crept over her face as brought her other hand across her body to pat his reassuringly.

"There, there," she said almost mockingly, fixing him with a look. He bowed his head, chuckling weakly, and she turned her head around to gaze back at her sister. Susan's eyes twinkled. "Thought so."

Lucy wasted no time but set her cordial down and threw her arms around her sister's neck, smiling brightly. She felt Susan pull her hand from Peter's and hug her back. When at last they withdrew their arms from each other, they shared a warm smile and turned to their brothers.

"Leg healed?" asked Ed. Susan pressed her hand firmly to the formerly wounded area, did not flinch, and nodded. She made an attempt to get up, the others rising with her, but let out a cry of surprise and fell forwards into Peter's waiting arms. Edmund stepped forward to help. After a moment Susan stood on her own, another frown on her face, testing her own strength by taking practice steps in a small circle.

"Bother," she muttered. "I suppose it comes of having all the muscles torn through and repaired all within the span of a few days. Rather embarrassing, though."

Her siblings laughed. When she seemed steady enough that there was no risk of falling, Peter turned to the dryads who remained standing at ease, watching them.

"Thank you," he said gratefully. What seemed to be the oldest of them sank into a deep bow, green eyes glittering behind the laugh-lines of her wrinkled face. She straightened out, and stood in such a way that made Lucy sure that no matter what titles said, she was far more regal than any of them.

"We will send for your escort," she said in a voice that was airy and powerful all at once. Peter nodded and turned back to his siblings. After a moment, Susan looked at them all impatiently, tapped her foot and said,

"Well? Aren't you going to tell me what I've missed?"

"It's only been the usual," said Edmund with the hint of a joke in his tone. "Peter's been trying to get himself killed and Lucy's been saving the day."

"And you?" asked Susan, playing along.

"Trading my family for candy." There was a moment of silence before his face split into a grin and he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Only joking."

Susan laughed and pulled a rather startled Edmund into a fond hug. He relaxed into it shortly; Lucy noticed with some surprise that he was as tall as Susan now, perhaps even a bit taller. When the two pulled back, she shared a glance with Peter.

"So really," said Susan, "what do we know now? Where do we go next?"

"We haven't exactly learned much that you don't know," said Peter.

"But we have," said a silvery voice, and the four siblings turned to see the dryad who had spoken before. She was the only one remaining now, as the rest had presumably gone to retrieve Carrul and the others. She motioned for them to sit on the grass and they did so. Once they were comfortable, she took a seat with her legs folded beneath her, her back perfectly straight and withered hands upon her knees.

"My Kings and Queens," she said, "we have pieced together many stories from many sources and discovered many things that may aid you in your quest. Firstly, you already know of the presence of many humans in this region; their arrival and their behavior can be traced back to an enemy who you may or may not have heard of."

"Zale?" asked Edmund, and the dryad nodded.

"A nymph, I am sure. The creatures I have spoken to say she is the appointed guardian of Castle Lake."

"We've heard her addressed that way," put in Lucy, remembering the conversation just before their earlier battle.

"Then that is certain," said the dryad. " Castle Lake is not a place I am familiar with. However, it is rumored that it is the name given to the lake that formed when the Winter Queen's palace deteriorated. The thawed rivers pooled in the area, which used to be a lake long ago, and when all the ice had melted it created quite a large body of water. The power of nymphs, as with dryads, is determined by the power of the tree or body of water we guard. Because this lake is so substantial, it is safe to assume that any enemy connected in spirit to it must be quite powerful.

"It is my suspicion that there is something of the Witch's bad magic left in the ruins of her castle. Magic has this sort of property; it lingers longer than it ought to, which is why most magical creatures are so reluctant to use it. However, if something within this lake has been tainted, it may be that the lake itself has been polluted. I choose to believe this because it explains several other things as well: the sick forest could be attributed to polluted waters feeding into it. Additionally, the presence of some deeper, darker magic could enhance the powers of a nymph whose realm encompasses it, and may cause him or her to make rash decisions under its influence. It may have become possible for Zale to harness the power of this magic and use it to her advantage. Why she would use it to bring other humans into this world is still beyond me."

"Some have come into her service as mercenaries," said Peter. "Maybe she lured them here to gather an army. They were under orders to arrest us, we know."

"Perhaps. You have heard that the former members of the Witch's army are amassing near here as well, and I can tell you that these are true. I myself have seen many pass through this forest, traveling west. If what you suggest is accurate, my Lord, then it could be that the old army was not large enough and she was forced to look for other means. The settlers are still left unexplained, however."

"It's inevitable that there would be others to find their way in."

"True," the dryad conceded.

"Then what are we to do?" asked Susan. She shifted uncomfortably, and Lucy noticed that her hand kept creeping back to the place where she'd been wounded. Edmund had done the same thing when she healed him at the Battle of Beruna. It was just plain odd to have a potentially fatal injury and then, abruptly, nothing. Susan had always had a hard time with the irrational. The dryad looked at the elder queen with steady eyes.

"The source of this magic must be destroyed," she said simply.

"What could it be, though?" asked Susan.

"It will be in the ruins of the castle, I can guarantee you that, my Lady. If you search them, somewhere inside you will find it."

"But that's underwater!" exclaimed Lucy. Edmund looked up at the dryad with an expression that clearly showed he was thinking the same thing. Suddenly, she let out a rippling laugh and the leaves on the great tree at the center shook as if nudged by a slight breeze.

"You have much to learn about Narnia, my Queen," she told her. "There are ways to travel through the water with magical assistance, so that you will not be harmed. I also believe that once you reach the castle, the magic that first drained the lake around it will remain strong enough to keep it dry inside. It is a strange concept, but magic is a strange thing."

"All right," said Peter. "It's certainly nice to know what we have to do, even if it is (as you say) strange."

"I am glad to be of assistance, my King," said the dryad. She rose in one fluid movement and moved away to leave them sitting with one another. Lucy looked around at her siblings expectantly. There was a bit of an awkward silence for a moment, until Edmund lay back on his elbows and let out a low whistle.

"I don't think 'strange' even begins to cover it," he said. Lucy laughed, and agreed.


	29. Twenty Nine

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just give them nightmares. At least, I should, writing stuff like _Choices.

* * *

_

When the others arrived in the glen, Peter immediately got up to consult with Carrul. Thomas took a seat beside Lucy, Edmund and Susan, offering a warm comment to the eldest and a congratulations on her recovery. She thanked him, and the four sat for a moment while they waited for their leaders to come to a decision. But the two continued to speak for longer than they'd anticipated, and it was several minutes before Carrul seemed to say something that convinced Peter; the king paled slightly and glanced over at the dryads before striding back to his family.

"All right," he said. "We're going to move on and find a place to stay for the night."

"Can't we just stay here?" asked Susan, looking slightly puzzled.

"Ah, well, you see, Carrul's just told me that this is one of the most sacred groves in all of Narnia. I really had no clue. But I think it would be just a tad disrespectful to…"

He was interrupted by the cascading laughter of several dryads. Turning to face them with an expression torn between indignity and bewilderment, Peter watched them for a moment before one of them spoke.

"This glen is sacred," she agreed, "but Narnia's beauty is not made to be closed off from its citizens, your Highness. Rest here for the night. To be sacred but not useful is hardly enticing."

"No, really, it's all right, we'll…"

"Nonsense," said Susan, rising to her feet and dusting off her dress. Lucy noticed that her mail shirt was folded near the roots of the central tree and she was garbed only in the dress she'd been wearing when she was stabbed. It looked clean, though, as if it had been washed. Her sister continued speaking. "You heard her, Peter. It would be rude to reject such an invitation. And I don't really suspect you're in any shape to be traveling, either. I seem to remember you taking a few hard knocks escaping from the camp."

Peter looked exceedingly uncomfortable at this remark. Lucy marveled at the paradox that was her brother; he wouldn't admit his injury, but he wouldn't lie either, which left him to fiddle with his sword hilt and stare up at the darkening sky.

"Right," said Edmund, after a moment. He rose up off his elbows to remove his sword-belt, casting it off to one side and sighing in relief. "Since we'll be spending the night here, we might as well get comfortable."

"Now just wait a minute, I never said…" began Peter, but Lucy had already followed Ed's example. He turned to Susan pleadingly, but she only fixed him with a playfully smug look and placed her hands on her hips.

"I think you've lost this one, O High King," she said. Thomas rose beside her, offering Peter a sympathetic look.

"She's right, mate," he said, then clapped a hand to his mouth and amended, "Your Highness."

"Oh, don't bother," muttered Peter, heaving a sigh and reluctantly removing his own belt. He tossed it to where Ed and Lucy had dumped their own. It was followed a moment later by his gauntlets, and his newly freed fingers fumbled for a moment with the buckle of the leather strap that ran from his hip to shoulder, holding his shield in place, before this accessory, too, was unceremoniously dumped in the heap. Thomas undid his own belt and (more carefully) placed his rapier by the rest of the weaponry.

When at last they were comfortable enough, the subject of dinner was brought up. In an instant the dryads disappeared into the woods and emerged only a few minutes later with a myriad of things like berries, nuts and tubers; the riches of the forest were supplemented with the things left in the packs of the travelers, and a sizeable spread was created. They were fourteen in all, four humans, six dryads, two centaurs, Renlin and Thomas. Despite the diversity they all tucked in with a will and soon the polite discourse gave way to earnest conversation, though Peter and Carrul again isolated themselves to talk over the state of things and plan the best course of action. After the meal was finished, they prepared to sleep.

Lucy lay beside Susan, tucking her cloak about herself but reaching for her sister's hand. It was nice to have their family together again. The sisters huddled together in the slight chill, Susan's arm finding its way around Lucy's shoulders to bring them into a tight embrace.

"It's good to have you back," whispered Lucy as she heard the others settling down around them. Susan smiled at her, her long black hair spilling out of the hood of her cloak.

"It's good to _be_ back," she answered quietly. "So what's happened, really? I didn't get much information out of you lot earlier."

Lucy began to tell her what she and Ed had told Peter, and found that Susan was an excellent audience. She listened carefully, didn't interrupt, and didn't wear the worried, somewhat guilty expression that seemed plastered to Peter's face. By the end, Lucy was already drifting off to sleep, her words slurring together. She was vaguely aware of Susan pulling them closer together, the faint snoring of someone else in the vicinity, and then she had succumbed to a welcome drowsiness that washed her into the realms of sleep.

_Crumbling stone walls, a broken gate, currents that pulled little schools of fish back and forth far beneath the glowing surface of the lake. The remains of what once had been a glorious castle. Turrets like broken limbs, jutting up into the frigid water, casting dark, menacing shadows that danced with the changing light from above. Down, down, deeper, into the deteriorated structure, into the blackness of the courtyard that once held countless figures of stone, past the eerie gardens, into the Great Hall… _

_More statues. A young woman with an arrow on her bow, grim determination on her tear-tracked face, beautiful even in stone. Behind her the crumpled form of a boy still on the path to manhood, facedown on the cold floor, sword lying inches from his limp, marbled hands. And, closest to Lucy, a warrior whose face still radiated bloodlust as he charged forward towards an unknown enemy with his sword uplifted. Beyond the madness in his face, a horrible grief and guilt. She cried out and jumped backwards, away from the terrifying figures that were not her family, could not be her family, it was impossible, it was impossible, wake up, wake up… _

She did, lurching forward with a whimpering cry even as she felt Susan's arms tighten about her gently, one hand on the back of her neck where the mail did not protrude. Lucy let her sister rock her back and forth gently as her hitched breathing slowly returned to normal, little sobs muffled in Susan's shoulder.

"Shhh," soothed the elder of the sisters, pushing Lucy's hair away from her sweaty forehead. When Lucy opened her eyes at last, it was completely dark in the clearing save for the small amount of moonlight that trickled down. Susan's face was illuminated by it, creating an almost ethereal effect, her mist-blue eyes watching her sister with tenderness.

" Susan," Lucy gasped finally, relaxing the hands that were fisted into the elder's cloak.

"What was it, Lu?" Susan asked quietly.

"Dream, just a dream," she murmured incoherently. Her heart was still hammering. Susan held her snug, whispering quiet reassurances in the dark of the night. Giving a shudder, Lucy felt the tension drain from her body, replaced with the exhaustion of spent adrenaline, and again she began to fall to sleep. Just before she lost consciousness, she felt her sister raise her head and heard her say,

"She's all right, Ed, go back to sleep."

Then there was the sound of someone shifting, a grouchy "gerroff, Peter," and Lucy remembered nothing more.


	30. Thirty

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just happen to randomly know that as of half an hour ago, there's forty-one days left until the DVD release. Ho hum...

* * *

She awoke to a slightly colder world (no Susan), but as soon as she saw that her siblings had simply woke up earlier, it didn't bother her. Scrambling to her feet, she half-ran, half-stumbled to throw her arms around a very startled Edmund, who yelped, tripped over his own feet and toppled to the ground with his little sister clinging doggedly to his neck.

"What was that for?" he spluttered, when finally she let go.

"For being my brother," she said with a grin. _For being alive._

"Batty," said Edmund, tapping his head. "Quite batty." But he grinned at her anyway.

The party ate breakfast, a casual affair of leftovers, and prepared to move out. Susan somewhat reluctantly donned her chain mail again. Back at the army camp, Lucy had been given a red outer-tunic to wear, much like Peter and Edmund's, because with the Narnian army out it was important to have something that immediately identified her as a friend. Now Susan, too, was presented with one; she also received her bow and quiver which the centaur had been carrying. The horn she had had all along.

"Why didn't you ever use it?" asked Lucy, as they set off.

"I didn't have the strength, and Peter didn't have the sense," Susan replied. "Or so he tells me. I wouldn't hesitate to blame it on pride though."

The eldest of the Pevensies shot her a feigned glare.

"We didn't need it in the end, did we?" he said defensively. "But enough about that. I ought to tell you what we – that's Carrul and I – have decided is the best plan for this next part of our little summer vacation."

Edmund scowled.

"If this has anything to do with sending us home and letting you stay behind and help…" he began, but Peter waved a hand dismissively.

"No, no, no," he said. "I know you lot are too stubborn for that…"

"_Who's_ stubborn, now?"

"Ed, quiet. As I was about to say, we've sent word with the dryads to the army; I expect Oreius has arrived by now, he'll take command. My priority is with the lake. We'll be escorted to it by present company, and then there will be a group of mermaids there. They can get us into the castle, which should be dry inside. From there, we'll search it until we can find what we need to destroy, do so, and get out of there. The army will be somewhere nearby, rooting out mercenary camps, ready to offer assistance if it's needed. I don't expect we'll have much trouble. Zale can't exactly post guards underwater, can she?"

"No, but I wouldn't say it's defenseless," said Susan. "She's bound to have left some sort of protection. If the dryads are right, and she can do everything she's doing because of whatever is in that castle, you'd expect her to at least create some sort of magical defense for it."

" Point taken. But that doesn't change much, we've still got to do what we've got to do."

"How long will it take to walk there?"

"Not long. We've been moving in the right direction this whole time without knowing, so it's just about another day's march west of here."

Lucy smiled dryly. Days of walking had made her rather tired and sore, so it was nice to hear that their destination was defined and their travel time set. Of course, she didn't doubt that aside from Susan, she had the least right to complain; Edmund was still running short of breath rather frequently, and Peter limped until he thought anyone was looking at him. Both sisters wisely didn't mention either of these things. So it was under the guise that Susan needed a rest that they called a halt several hours later, and all eight of them gratefully sank to the ground to drink from their canteens and give their aching limbs a break. Lucy sat next to her sister, leaning up against her shoulder as she fiddled with the ugly but effective stitches that held her belt together. She hadn't noticed before, but someone had obviously taken the time to sew the part she'd cut through together.

They rested for a good fifteen minutes before Peter somewhat reluctantly got to his feet and told them they needed to move on. Sighing, Lucy took the hand that Thomas offered her and levered herself up off the forest floor. Susan rose beside her, which was a good thing, because a second later an arrow buried itself where she'd been sitting.

"Do you people ever stop?" she said irately, as the troop erupted into action around her. Peter swiftly drew a long dagger out of his boot and passed hilt-first to Susan; Lucy caught something about "close-range, you'll need it" and then she was drawing her own weapon and holding it before her threateningly. Out of the thick woods there came an organized column of Zale's mercenaries, the same grey cloaks drifting behind them. This time they were a mix of races. The man who marched at the front was clearly human, but he was flanked by two dwarves and a goblin, and somewhere in the back of the line Lucy thought she could see an ogre.

"All right there, your Highness?" asked Thomas, casting her a glance. He held his rapier before him, eyes coming back to rest on their advancing attackers.

"Peachy," she muttered. The sailor gave her a somewhat surprised look, not having seen this side of her before, and she was just about to apologize when the first person attacked. They were aiming for Carrul, but he had drawn his heavy broadsword already and easily deflected it. Then all was a flurry of blades and blows, which Lucy found herself somewhat detached from – Thomas was doing a fairly good job keeping the goblins that were assaulting him at bay, and kept them away from her at the same time. The second he faltered but once, though, she was in the fray. Back to back they fought, quickly taking down the goblins and moving on to help a beleaguered Renlin.

About a minute into the fight Lucy heard Peter yelling something that sounded peculiarly like "Ed, you git!" She spared a glance towards her brothers to a rather surprising sight. Edmund was standing just in front of Peter, blocking his elder brother from reaching or being reached by any of the enemy, his sword-blade flying in a blur of silver. His face was contorted in concentration but beyond it, Lucy was sure she caught the same vengeful expression he'd worn when they'd been tending to Peter's injuries back at the army camp. The elder of the two made several attempts to move past his brother and into the thick of things, but every move he made was blocked, and every time Lucy chanced a look back at them he appeared more irritated.

The matter was over very shortly; Lucy tried not to look at the bodies. Edmund promptly fell to his knees, coughing and hacking, his sword clattering to the ground. One very agitated Peter towered above him. Susan immediately glided to the High King's side, opening her mouth presumably to speak words of a calming nature, but he put up his hand, sheathing his unused sword with a loud ring. Edmund continued to wheeze.

"Edmund, you idiot!" Peter yelled. Edmund looked up to give him a glare, still coughing into the crook of his elbow. "What was that all about!"

"You're…injured," panted Ed. His body shook violently and he put out a hand to steady himself.

"I'm not made of glass!"

"Worked out…fine, didn't it?"

Lucy hurried to Edmund's side, carefully avoiding his sword as she knelt beside her choking brother. She helped him to sit up straighter and strapped the shield to his back again, one hand on his arm reassuringly. He gave her a grateful look before coughing a bit more, but soon it faded to harsh breathing. Carrul took a step forward, eyeing the battlefield rather uneasily.

"It would not be wise to stay here, your Majesty," he warned. Peter nodded distractedly, still looking down at his younger brother with an expression half exasperated, half concerned.

"Off we go, then," he said rather bitterly. He took his dagger back from Susan and knelt to help Ed to his feet. His brother, breath coming in steady but still rough gasps, shook his head.

"Not quite ready," he wheezed. Peter looked up at Carrul, who still didn't look keen to be staying around the area. The young king paused for a moment then seemed to make up his mind. He put an arm behind Edmund's back, and another under his knees; Ed seemed to guess what was about to happen a split second before it did.

"Don't you dare…" he began, but he began coughing again. Lucy, who thought it rather made sense, picked up Edmund's sword and sheathed it for him before standing herself. Peter staggered to his feet with his little brother in his arms looking murderous. When finally the younger regained his breath, he tried to bring up the arm closest to Peter and push him away, but found that it was stuck behind his older brother's neck, so instead he brought his other arm over his body and pushed against him with all his strength. Against the chain mail, it didn't do much to help.

"Stop squirming, Ed," said Peter sternly.

"You!" Edmund rasped. "I'll…I'll kill you, Peter!"

"Saves Zale the trouble of doing it, then," said Peter, glancing around at the others before setting off through the wood again. Lucy followed at a distance, torn between feeling sorry for Edmund and feeling afraid for Peter. She really didn't envy him once the younger of her brothers had both feet on the ground.

"Peter, you bastard! Let me down!"

"No. And remind me to wash your mouth out once we get to that lake."

Edmund let out a strangled scream of frustration, which turned into another bout of coughing. Lucy fell into step beside Susan, who was shaking her head despairingly. After another five minutes of walking, Thomas came up beside her, watching the still-bickering kings out of the corner of his eyes as he whispered to Lucy,

"Are they always like this?'

Lucy bit back a grin and nodded.


	31. Thirty One

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I only waste hours and hours and hours thinking and writing about them.

* * *

As it turned out, Peter carried Edmund through to lunch about half an hour later. Ed had stopped protesting about ten minutes prior, though Lucy didn't know if it was because he'd run out of cusses or because he realized the futility of it all; whatever the case, the instant Peter lowered him gently to the ground he turned around, pulled off his right gauntlet, and slapped his brother across the face.

"Edmund!" cried Susan admonishingly, rushing to Peter's side. The eldest Pevensie stood with a rather surprised look on his face, one hand coming up to touch his reddening cheek. After a moment he seemed to snap out of a trance and turned to his still-glaring brother.

"You're welcome," he said confusedly.

"Piss off," hissed Ed, and stomped away.

His siblings shared a look, then Susan murmured "oh, dear" and hurried after him. Peter sighed and sank to the forest floor tiredly. Lucy copied him, reaching out to pat his arm reassuringly.

"He's just tetchy," she told him. "I don't expect he's actually angry with you."

"No," agreed Peter. "But I do wish he'd find less colorful language to express himself."

After lunch they started what Lucy hoped dearly was the final stretch of their journey. Feeling distinctly unmotivated, she trudged through the forest with her head down and her shoulders hunched, not really speaking to anyone. Renlin and Thomas were, again, chatting animatedly, and she thought fleetingly of joining them but found that she just wasn't in the mood. It was getting colder again, and the forest was thinning as they headed towards what was presumably a large lake.

She had been to the Witch's castle once before, when Aslan had brought her and Susan there to bring back the Narnians who had been turned to stone. It was a decidedly unsavory building with too many spires, pointed like daggers or dunce's caps, much smaller than Cair Paravel but with dungeons of equal size. Lucy hadn't been everywhere inside of it, only where she and Susan had gone to look for other stone creatures, but she'd seen enough to know that it wouldn't be a comfortable place to live. It was built for someone who expected no company that couldn't be accommodated in a prison cell. Of her siblings, Peter was the only one who had never visited it; Edmund, of course, had been there when he'd gone to betray them. He had never been willing to speak about just what happened inside, but from the state he had been in when they'd been reunited, it was safe to say that he hadn't been well-received.

Lucy glanced over at him, wondering how he felt about going back. He didn't look very happy but she supposed there were other reasons for that. ("Do you think he's all right?" Peter had asked; Susan had told him the only thing paining Ed at the moment was his pride.) Still, she felt a little worried for him. If the memories alone had been enough to give him nightmares for months after their coronation, what would happen when he was directly faced with the place where it happened? A bit of righteous anger flared somewhere in the back of her mind, and she briefly thought _Peter's going to kill that woman _before she remembered that she had been dead four years already.

"…and the warmest smile in all of Archenland," Thomas was saying. Lucy skipped a step to come over and join him and Renlin, deciding that she might as well. There wasn't anything else to do.

"She sounds like a fine lass," said Renlin.

"Who?" asked Lucy, and they both looked over at her.

"My girl, Sarah," said Thomas with a smile. "She's back home in Archenland. Been thinking of bringing her up here to Narnia."

"Oh, are you getting married?"

He laughed and shrugged, his cheeks flushing the slightest bit.

"I'd like to," he admitted. "But I don't know if her parents would stand for it. Her mother especially, she's got a nasty temper, last time I came 'round to visit her daughter she gave me a black eye. Heard a few too many stories about sea-faring types I guess."

"That's ridiculous! You ought to be able to marry whoever you like."

"Ah, such is life," said Renlin sagely. They walked on together as he went in detail about his own bittersweet love story. Lucy, who had never really been one for romantic tales, listened politely and wondered if she'd ever become like that. Occasionally she'd caught Susan giving funny looks to the young ambassadors and princes that visited them in court, but nothing had been spoken of the matter yet and she was glad. She couldn't imagine ever losing Susan to some foreigner and having an empty throne.

She continued conversing with Thomas and Renlin for a good hour, until Peter called her aside.

"Lucy," he said seriously, and kept his voice quiet enough that they wouldn't be overheard. "I want to talk to you."

"What about?"

"I don't know what's waiting inside that castle, but I can assure you it will be dangerous."

"What are you getting at, Peter?" she asked suspiciously. He tried to look casual.

"No one's forcing you to go…" he said nonchalantly, shrugging.

"Oh, save your breath," she said crossly. "You know perfectly well I'm going whether or not you want me to."

"Yes, I thought so. But it was worth a try."

"Peter, I've been meaning to speak to you," said Susan suddenly, falling into step beside him, and Lucy could have sworn her sister had winked at her. Peter cast a wary glance at her, and Lucy wondered if he noticed the mildly wicked twinkle in her blue eyes. She grinned.

"I've been thinking," said Susan slowly. "This could be awfully dangerous. I don't know if you should be coming along. You could get hurt." And she sounded so solemn, so grave, that for a minute even Lucy thought she was serious.

"What…what are you talking about?" Peter stammered indignantly.

"Yes, you really should stay back with the army, you'll be safer," Lucy teased, joining in.

"Don't be absurd, it's my duty, I'm a ruddy King of Narnia!"

"And we are Queens," said Susan. "Stop being such a wet blanket."

"I am not being a wet blanket! I just want my family out of harm's way, is that so much to ask for?"

"You worry too much," said Lucy, latching onto his arm.

"I don't have to put up with this," Peter said warningly in an obvious attempt to regain his dignity. Susan latched onto his other arm, linking elbows and offering him an unnaturally cheery smile.

"Oh, but you do anyway," she told him as they marched along.

"And I do not worry too much," he mumbled defiantly.

"Don't kid yourself," said a different voice; they craned their necks back to see that Edmund was walking behind them. He still looked somewhat sour, but his lips curled into a characteristic smirk as he continued. "More like a Worrier King than a Warrior King."

"He's got you there, Peter," said Susan pleasantly as he flushed a delightful shade of crimson (Lucy wasted no time in informing him of the exact hue).

"Abuse," he muttered. "That's all I ever get is abuse. Completely unappreciated."

"You know we love you," Lucy said cheerfully, resting her head against his shoulder.

They ate on the lakeshore that night, a meal of freshly caught fish and nuts. The night was clear and cold with the moon shining faintly off the deceptively calm surface of the lake. Lucy lay awake to the quiet lapping of the water and the warmth of Susan's arms around her as their brothers slept nearby; her thoughts drifted like the few clouds that made their lazy way across the starlit skies. Tomorrow, she thought, all four of them would be plunging into the frigid lake, down into the ruined home of the one person who had come close to breaking apart their family. She didn't doubt Peter at all. It would be risky, very much so, but as she let herself fall into sleep, she realized that it didn't make much of a difference. As long as they could be together, things would be all right.


	32. Thirty Two

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just think they make the most adorable guinea pigs for my literary experiments.

* * *

"Well," said Lucy, fiddling with the bottle that held her cordial and avoiding his eyes. "I guess this is goodbye."

"Aye," said Thomas gravely. The morning sunlight fell lazily across the landscape, grey-yellow rays that made everything look clear but indifferent, as if the day had yet to choose its colors. The area was frighteningly still, with only their small camp making any noise at all.

"You'll be joining with the army, then?" asked Lucy. Thomas nodded.

"There's a camp about a half day's walk from here, we'll be heading for that," he replied. There was a long silence. Then he leaned over, ruffled her hair affectionately and said, "Whatever happens, Lucy Pevensie, I am glad to have met you."

She stood there with her mouth hanging open for a few seconds before she laughed, which felt so good that she had to keep doing it. Thomas straightened out and looked torn between confusion and merriment, a baffled smile twisting his lips.

_Thomas and Tumnus, _she thought for a very good reason as he bowed to her one last time and left to stand by Carrul and the others. Susan appeared at her side, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder and squeezing it gently. Lucy looked up at her, smiled, and looked back over at their friends.

"Good fortune be with you," said Carrul, inclining his head respectfully.

"And with you," replied Peter, doing the same. "Thank you for your guidance in this past week. Please know that if ever you wish to visit, the Cair welcomes you."

"Many thanks, Your Highness. May you be successful in your quest."

"We'll do our best. Good wishes until we meet again, then."

Peter stepped forward, as did Carrul, and they shook hands.

"It has been an honor," said the centaur. Peter nodded his thanks, and then the party was setting off. Lucy watched them go unhappily as they disappeared into the forest. But just before they were gone, Thomas turned, lifted one hand in salute, and winked. She laughed and waved back.

"Good luck!" he called. She smiled and waved one last time before turning to her siblings, who looked solemn but ready, and together they strode to the edge of the lake. A few green-skinned merpeople were resting in the shallows, waiting, and as the monarchs approached they straightened out. The one who seemed to be the chieftain, a powerfully built male with a long, shaggy beard, wore a satchel, and now he reached into it and withdrew a small item. It looked to be an intricate mask, made of different shells pieced together; it had eyeholes but the rest was a solid sheet of shell. He held it up for the Pevensies to see.

"The Mask of Amphitrite," he said in squeaky, hissing voice. "It will bring you safely to the Winter Queen's palace, but only the one who wears it will breathe in water. We will return for the others and bring you one at a time."

The four rulers exchanged a look.

"I'll go first," said Peter, and they didn't argue. "Lu, you'll follow me." Here he paused, as if unwilling to leave either one of his remaining siblings alone on the lakeshore for however long.

"I'll go last," said Edmund firmly. He met Peter's intense gaze evenly, as if daring him to object, but the High King nodded mutely, turned and waded into the lake. When the water was up to his waist, he reached out and took the mask from the merman chieftain.

"I'll be seeing you shortly," he told his siblings, and slipped the shell over his face. It did not slip off, despite the fact that it had no fastenings. He checked his sword-belt briefly then nodded to the merpeople, and two of them swam forward to take hold of his arms. There was a great splash as they took off. Then Lucy and her remaining siblings were left staring at the surface of the lake, ripples moving outward from where their brother had disappeared.

"Be careful," said Susan inconsequentially, as if she'd just thought of it.

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a bit less than ten minutes until finally the merpeople resurfaced. One was a female with flowing golden hair, the other a stocky male with a scar that looked suspiciously like a bite mark from a large fish on his shoulder. Lucy stepped forward into the lake; the water came up to her chest before she was in deep enough to reach them. She took the mask from the mermaid and brought it to her face. When it touched, it stung slightly, like salty breeze on a scrape, but she withdrew her hand and it stayed there. Her field of vision was framed by the eyeholes now, and her mouth felt strange, suddenly very dry. She turned to Edmund and Susan, giving them a little wave before she took the arms of the merpeople and pushed off, plunging into the lake.

It was absolutely freezing and if she hadn't been too surprised by the fact that she could breathe, she would have screamed. Lucy kicked hard and was rewarded as she sped through the water. They were pulling away from the lake bottom now, it was dropping out beneath them as they swam over a deep pit of endless blue. She let her eyes pass over the shoals of silvery fish and the fluttering of kelp and other water plants. They came to rest on something else.

_Crumbling stone walls, a broken gate, currents that pulled little schools of fish back and forth far beneath the glowing surface of the lake. The remains of what once had been a glorious castle. Turrets like broken limbs, jutting up into the frigid water, casting dark, menacing shadows that danced with the changing light from above. _

She jerked out of the dream-memory and shuddered visibly. The mermaid turned to her in concern, pointing to the surface with a questioning look but Lucy shook her head. She wouldn't go back because of a silly dream. But the castle was there, just as she had dreamt it – looming, ominous, sinister somehow, a huge structure that dominated everything else in the landscape. She couldn't escape the sick feeling of dread that swelled within her stomach at the sight, but she swam on doggedly, her chain mail weighing her down. If the merpeople hadn't been there she surely would have had to walk across the bottom of the lake; it was impossible to swim in it without assistance.

After what seemed like hours (but was probably only five minutes), they changed their angle to drop beyond the gates, in a courtyard of the ruined castle. It was equally ghostly up close, like a horror story waiting to unfold. The two merpeople let go of her arms and nodded towards an open doorway, so she walked towards it, her movements sluggish in the water, her hair, cloak and dress drifting eerily behind her. When she put one arm inside it was the oddest feeling – it was dry, as if there was a barrier in the air itself. She stepped fully inside and pulled the mask from her face, handing it through the doorway to the waiting merman. Then the two were swimming off, and she turned to Peter, who was leaning against one stone wall.

"Not exactly welcoming, is it?" he joked weakly. She noticed that his clothes were completely dry and was about to ask how he'd done it when she looked at herself and saw that the same was true for her. He smiled. "Yes, I was a bit surprised too. I expect it's that mask."

"Right," said Lucy distractedly, looking around the room. It was a hallway of some sort, completely unadorned except for candle-holders every so often on the wall. To her immense surprise, there were torches burning in them, crackling at full height as if they'd just been lit. She assumed it was magic that kept them that way. "So…what are we looking for, again?"

"We're waiting for Su and Ed, first," said Peter. "After that, I really don't know. Anything could have been enchanted to grant power to whoever stumbled across it. I think we'll know when we find it, though."

" Okay." She turned her attention to the stone walls, running a hand across them. They were completely free of dust. It was as if everything had been preserved perfectly. Sighing, she sank down on the floor cross-legged and rested her chin on her hands. Several long minutes passed, then there was a sound from the outside and Susan came through the doorway.

"Bit nippy," she commented, rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm herself up. The entire castle felt chilly, thought Lucy, and drew her own cloak around her shoulders a little tighter. They waited longer for Ed than for anyone – after fifteen unbearable minutes which only saw Peter looking more and more anxious, he finally staggered through the doorway looking quite ill. Susan placed a hand on his arm.

"Are you all right?" she asked. He shook his head miserably, bending over with his hands on his knees, trembling visibly.

"Is it the castle?" asked Lucy. He gave her a look, nodded, and turned his face away in shame.

"It's okay to be upset," said Susan kindly, and she gave him a gentle hug. He gave her a feeble but grateful smile.

"Sorry," he said in a small voice. Lucy looked over at Peter, who was biting his lip.

"When you're ready, Ed," he said, and she had the feeling it had come out a little more brusquely than he'd wanted.

"I'm all right," said Edmund. He stood up straighter as if to prove it, his face pale but his breathing even.

"I think we ought to split up," said Peter, looking around at them all. "Two and two. Lucy, you come with me, all right?"

" Okay," she agreed.

"Shout if you find anything, then?" said Peter to Susan and Ed, who nodded, and they walked together until the hallway split into two staircases, one going up and one going down. Susan put a hand on the banister of the one leading downward, glancing at Ed; he shrugged and they set off down it.

"See you soon," called Lucy, and followed Peter up the other stairway. The utter tranquillity of the palace frightened her somewhat. She placed a hand on her cordial as if to reassure herself, and headed up into the unknown.


	33. Thirty Three

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just think "not as bad as what Ed had to go through" when I'm sitting there at the dentist's. Stop looking at me like that!

* * *

At the top of the staircase was another hallway, but this one was short, with a set of heavy, ornate doors at one end. Peter glanced at her before striding forward and pulling the doors open with some effort. Beyond them lay an immense chamber. Stone archways vaulted into the darkness high above their heads and there were still torches burning in mounted brackets, but mostly the room was lit by the strange blue glow of sunlight filtered through the lake waters.

"What do you think it was for?" asked Lucy, her voice unconsciously hushed. It still echoed spookily in the empty space.

"I've no clue," murmured Peter, staring up at the high ceiling. For the most part the room was bare, reminding Lucy of those huge old buildings in England – what were they called? – cathedrals. There were even little alcoves in the walls, just like the prayer niches with the statues of saints, but instead of the candle glow that always sat at the feet of those figures, these spaces were darkened. Lucy couldn't see what was inside them for the shadow.

"Maybe it's in one of those," she told Peter, pointing.

"You could be right, Lu," he said. "I suppose we'd best check each one. You take the right, give me a shout if you find something. Or if something finds you."

Unsure whether to laugh or feel frightened, Lucy nodded and headed off to the right side of the room. She pulled a torch from the wall and held it before her, squinting slightly with the smoke. Inside the first niche was nothing but cobwebs and a stone plaque with words she couldn't read. Moving on, she held the torch before her cautiously and peered into the next alcove, only to scream loudly and jump backwards, stumbling over her own feet and dropping the torch. In an instant Peter was kneeling at her side, snatching up the fallen torch and pulling her into a sitting position.

"What was it, Lu?" he asked urgently, following her terrified gaze to the niche, which had fallen again into shadow. She whimpered and pointed to it. Peter got to his feet and took a step forward, his torch lighting the way, and again Lucy saw it – the ghastly, rotting skeleton of a dwarf, dressed in moldy clothes, empty eye-holes staring blankly. Peter shuddered but did not move back. He turned back to Lucy, helping her to her feet and handing her the torch again.

"It's all right," he said. "Ed said there was a dwarf helping her, didn't he? This is probably his great great great grand-sire or something. Anyway, I don't think we'll find much else in those niches, and somehow I'm not feeling that this is the right place. What do you say?"

She nodded, trembling slightly, and accepted the hand that Peter offered her. He led the way across the room, both of them leaving their torches in an empty bracket. There were several doors to choose from, but they chose the largest one, which led to yet another hallway. This was less well-lit, but still navigable, and Lucy recognized it. She thought that she might have been there before with Aslan, and the thought that the Lion had walked the passageway made her feel a little more confident. Peter pulled open a door in the hallway, and together they stepped into the room.

It must have been an armory at some point. The walls were hung with suits of armor, shields, spears, daggers and all sorts of weaponry, tall stone racks bearing even more of the same. Peter's eyes lit up a little bit, which make Lucy chuckle, and he let go of her hand, stepping forward to admire everything. They began to move down the first row of arms. At one point Peter reached out to pull a dirk from the rack, but he seemed to think it wasn't noteworthy because a second later he replaced it. It wasn't until they were about halfway down the second row that Lucy began to feel uneasy.

"Peter," she said, tugging at his tunic. He looked down at her and she frowned. "Let's not stay here any longer, I have a bad feeling."

"Don't be silly, Lu," he said, giving her a smile. "There's nothing to be afraid of. Besides, I feel like there's something here – something magic. Maybe what we're looking for is just around the corner."

She shuddered but didn't object, letting him pull her by the hand to the third row of armaments. On this rack, there were shields of all shapes and sizes, some looking as if they'd been used the day before and others as though they'd been there for centuries. For some reason, Lucy felt even more perturbed by the shields than by anything else. Peter didn't seem to be bothered at all, though, and she mutely trailed behind him as he walked past most of them without a second glance. There was a moment when his head snapped back, a brief flash of surprise and alarm crossing his face as he looked at one perfectly circular, highly polished, silver shield, but the expression was gone so suddenly she wasn't sure if she'd really seen it.

"Oh, do let's get out of here," pleaded Lucy. One of the candles suspended from the ceiling flickered, casting odd shadows across her brother's face.

"I really would like to stay a bit longer," he said seriously. "But I suppose if it bothers you that much, we can go."

She turned back down the aisle and quickly walked back the way they'd come, not stopping to look at anything. Peter was right – she felt there was something magic in the room, too, and she didn't like it at all. Something inside her said that she probably should stay and find out if it was what they were looking for, but she was keen to be away from it as soon as possible. She was about ready to turn back onto the first aisle when she realized that Peter wasn't following her. Turning back with warnings about dawdling on her tongue, she opened her mouth to speak them but he spoke first.

"No," he said in a hoarse whisper. She couldn't see where he was, but his voice sounded choked, frightened, broken.

"Peter?" she called, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

"No, I'm sorry!" A muffled sob. Lucy took off down the aisle, rounding the corner at a run, and came face to face with a most peculiar sight. Peter was staring into the shield that had made him double-take before, a look of pure horror etched across his face. Lucy's blood froze in her veins – _Peter was afraid. Peter wasn't allowed to be afraid. He could be worried, or nervous, but never afraid. Something was terribly wrong._

"Peter!" she shouted, running to him. He turned away from the shield but his face remained the same.

"It's all my fault," he said in a horrible, empty voice. "Everything is my fault."

"No, Peter, wake up, you're…you're dreaming, you're hallucinating…"

"No!" he yelled suddenly, and flinched as if he'd been hit. He dropped to his knees in a great clatter of chain-mail, back bent, hands tense upon the stone floor, shoulders shaking. "No, don't! Leave them, take me, it's my fault!"

Lucy threw herself down on the floor beside him, reaching out to grab his shoulder.

"Peter!" she cried frantically. He looked up, and it took everything she had to not look away – his blue eyes were wide open in terror, his breathing coming much too fast, his hands scrabbling frenetically on the stones as if looking for something to hold onto.

"It's all my fault," he whispered. "It all happened because of me. I don't deserve to live."

"Stop it!"

Suddenly his body went rigid, dry sobs of terror breaking painfully from his throat. His eyes were alternately open far too wide or squeezed shut, breathing in gasps, shaking violently. Lucy swallowed hard, trying to push back her own panic, leaning forward to place her trembling arms around his broad shoulders.

"Peter, calm down, it's…"

She cried out as his hand darted out, snatching the dagger from her belt. She made a grab for it but he had already pressed it into her hand, looking her in the eyes.

"Kill me," he begged.

"No!"

He moaned piteously and seized the dagger again, his hand closing resolutely over the handle, bringing the tip to his chest, just over his heart. Lucy screamed and clawed at his hand but he would not let go. She was sobbing now, tears pouring down her face as she desperately tried to stop him but he was too strong, so she did the only thing she could think of. Bodily hurling herself against her brother, she brought them both to the floor, and in the few seconds of chaos that followed she leapt up, grasped the shield he'd been looking in, and threw it across the room. It landed face-down after clattering against the wall and floor.

Peter was lying on his side, the dagger still in his hand, but when she tried to take it from him he did not try to stop her. Kneeling beside him, Lucy grabbed his hand and heaved him half-upright.

"Peter?" she asked shakily. His eyes slowly opened and he took in everything as if for the first time.

"L…Lu?" he croaked. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly, her own tears finally slowing. He peeled her off himself, holding her at arm's length and giving her a quick look. "You're alive." And there was so much relief in that, so much warmth in his cracked voice, that it was almost more frightening than what had just happened.

"Of course I am," she said worriedly. But he'd already pulled her back into the embrace. He was still shivering dramatically. She opened her mouth to ask him what had happened but suddenly, a far-off scream shattered the moment.

"Edmund!"

Lucy scrambled away from Peter, who had jumped to his feet after his exclamation, new fear blossoming on his face. He pulled her standing quickly and she just had time to grab her dagger before taking off after him.


	34. Thirty Four

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just gave you two updates in a day. Well, not technically, but I haven't slept since I last updated, so you can be grateful anyway.

**Author's Note: **This is the fifty-thousand word mark, and this will probably (though not definitely) be my last author's note. I'd again like to thank each and every one of my reviewers, especially those who write long, juicy reviews. Like EllaJ.W, for instance, who practically wrote me an essay. In any case, thank you for taking time out of your lives to make writing this more fun for me. Not that it wasn't. But who doesn't love reviews?

We're winding up to the (hopefully) spectacular finish here, which is hard for me to write, so please be patient. I love all the support I get from you guys. Also, if you've got anything you'd like to see explained, any problems you see, any amusing typos (see my last author's note for a humiliating example), please don't hesitate to let me know. Or, if you'd like me to write a sidefic with any scene that wasn't written out, tell me and I just might do it. Again, many many thanks to you all, I'm just as surprised about the length of this as you are. If I hadn't told you, I started this fic on a bet with Mooze: we were going to see who could get to five thousand words. Since I'm at ten times that now, I feel that I've won. Mooze, if you're out there, drop me a line. And without any further blabbering, here you are. Chapter thirty four.

* * *

They shot through the hallway, past the alcoves with the dead dwarves, down both staircases and into an utterly dark room.

" Susan! Edmund!" Peter called into the darkness, stumbling forwards. Lucy, realizing her brother wasn't quite yet in his right mind, scurried back up the staircase to the last wall-mounted torch, pulled it from its holder and hurried back. Peter was still standing, waiting for an answer.

There was another scream, nearer this time, but it came from a doorway somewhere to their left; the room, Lucy could now see, was another hallway. She thrust the torch into Peter's hand because he showed signs of taking off again and she didn't want him to trip. He gave her a brief nod of thanks, already sprinting off towards the door and wrenching it open. Lucy followed at a run.

Another staircase spiraled down into pitch-black, and Lucy knew they must be getting to the very bottom of the old castle. They descended it quickly, hurried footsteps echoing in the cylindrical chamber, and it seemed to go on forever before they emerged in what looked to be an antechamber of some sort. A candle-holder was suspended from the ceiling but it gave off only a dim orange glow. Lucy barely had time to register that there were several doorways leading off this room before one of them (the one on the right) burst open and someone tore through, crashing violently into Peter's side and sending both figures sprawling on the stone floor. The light in the room changed dramatically, whirling shadows whipping across the walls as the torch went flying out of his hands and extinguished itself. Lucy ran forward, drawing her dagger, but realized that it was Edmund, face hidden because he'd buried it in Peter's chest as his body shook with sobs.

Susan hurried through the door a second later. In the bad light she looked very white and very ill. Peter was nearly in hysterics, clutching Edmund to him so tightly that Lucy was afraid he would break the smaller boy's arms.

"What happened?" asked Lucy, moving forward in the dark to stand by Susan. Her sister placed a hand on the wall as if to steady herself, her face drawn.

"We found the dungeons," she said quietly, barely audible over Edmund's muffled cries and Peter's terrified whimpering. "Found a room…oh, Aslan!" Lucy quickly moved to catch Susan as she pitched forward.

" Susan?" she asked anxiously.

"Sorry," said Susan weakly, steadying herself. "Found a room, and a whip, stains on the walls… never seen Ed so scared…"

Lucy stole a glance at Edmund, who was now curled in Peter's lap, the elder of the two cradling his younger brother to his chest. Ed looked nothing short of petrified. Frightened tears streaked his freckled cheeks and his face was alarmingly pale, his shoulders still shaking with suppressed emotion as he leaned against his brother with his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Oh, Aslan, how could we let it happen?" murmured Susan, her voice almost cracking. Lucy hurried over to her brothers, reaching out to catch Edmund's hand in her own. Even through the leather glove he wore, she could feel him trembling.

"Ed, Ed, it's all right," she told him. Peter looked unable to speak, his arms bone-crushingly taut around his brother's shoulders. Edmund looked up at her, opening his eyes. His pupils were tiny, scared pin-pricks, his gaze watery but unwavering, as if he wouldn't let himself look away from her. She knelt and felt Susan come up behind her, hovering. "You're safe now, Ed, it's all right."

He blinked hard, breath hitching.

"N…no, I don't…I don't want…" he began, sobs breaking his voice up. He seemed completely unable to stem his tears.

"It's all right," repeated Susan, kneeling on his other side. He bit his lip so hard it drew blood, a little crimson path trickling down his chin. For a moment he looked as if he was going to speak, but he looked at the floor instead.

"I'm s…sorry," he choked out after a long time, his voice raspy from crying. Lucy squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"You're okay now, Edmund," soothed Susan, tucking an errant black curl behind his ear tenderly. "Nothing's going to hurt you. We're here."

"I kn…know," he stammered. He sniffed loudly. "I'm sorry. I'm…such…such a weak…"

But his statement was cut off by his own surprised yelp as Peter crushed him in a brutally tight embrace, the older of the two finally finding his voice again.

"Don't ever say that, Edmund," he said fiercely. "Don't ever let me hear you say that again."

"I'll just…say it when you're not around, then," Edmund teased feebly with a watery chuckle. Lucy laughed; Susan smiled and Peter shook his head despairingly, pressing Ed to himself one last time before Susan helped the younger king get shakily to his feet. Peter got up on his own, scabbard scraping along the stone floor and making Lucy twitch. They stood there in the darkness for a moment, their original quest almost forgotten. It was left unsaid, but they knew there would be no more talk of splitting up and searching.

"We…we should get going," said Susan finally. Noticing that Ed's eyes flicked fearfully towards the door they'd come from, she shook her head. "We don't need to go in there again. We can search the rest first and come back if we need to."

"S'dark," mumbled Ed.

"I think I dropped the torch when you er…came in," said Peter.

"It won't do us much good anyway," said Susan practically. "If it went out, we can't light, none of us is tall enough to reach the ceiling lamp. Ed and I had one with us but I think we left it back…back where we came from."

"I could go and get it," offered Lucy, albeit with a little reluctance.

"No," her sister replied quite firmly. "I don't want you going in there either, Lucy. No, we can find our way back to the stairs in the dark, then find another one if we need to come back."

"Right," said Peter, glancing at Edmund before he led the way out of the room and into the inky blackness of the spiral stairwell. For the next ten minutes they struggled up the stairs with no light, stumbling and faltering. Once, Lucy tripped and just barely caught herself but skinned her knees badly, the heels of her hands aching. It seemed like an eternity before they finally emerged into the dark (but wonderfully level) room at the top. Light from the other stairs spilled out into the room, briefly silhouetting Peter as he doggedly began to climb the next two flights of stairs.

All of them were at varying degrees of exhaustion by the time they finally reached the room with the dwarves. Edmund, presumably due to his weakened lungs, was wheezing too much for their comfort and so they made him wait a few minutes before carrying on. Lucy explained that they'd already been in the room when Ed and Susan looked ready to explore, and the four of them moved to the doors at the end. Instead of choosing the large ones that led to the other hallway and the armory, they took a smaller door on the left. Peter almost slammed it back shut when it revealed more stairs, but it was only a short flight – eight steps, Lucy counted – so he merely grunted, shrugged and headed up.

This was another hallway, but it was much narrower than the others had been. It also had windows, which was extremely strange. Lucy stuck her fingers in one as she passed it and it felt just like dipping her fingers in a freezing bath. Outside, she could see fish swimming by, their scales glittering in the blue-green world at the bottom of the lake. She judged that they were in one of the spires, about halfway up. Hurrying to keep pace with her siblings, Lucy wiped her wet fingers on her outer tunic and again checked to make sure she had her cordial and dagger.

The entire castle was still dead silent and it almost felt criminal to be inside it, as if they were disturbing a funeral. Oddly, though, the lack of noise was more unsettling than sounds would have been, because she strongly suspected now that the dangers of the palace lay not in its guardians but in its ability to draw upon its visitors' intrinsic fears. She wondered briefly about telling Susan what Peter had tried to do, but decided against it. Not only was she not sure her sister would believe her, but she half doubted it herself now. It just wasn't something he would do. Swallowing hard, she reached out and grabbed Susan's hand. The elder queen looked back in some surprise but smiled gently, squeezing her hand and pulling her along after their brothers.

_Together, _thought Lucy. _That's what matters. We're together._


	35. Thirty Five

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just hope they won't kill me for mutilating them in this sub-par chapter, ergh.

* * *

At the end of the long, narrow hallway were several doors. They headed in the first, which led to a room looked as if it may have been for guests at some point, but obviously it had been taken over for use by the wolves that had made up Jadis's secret police. It reeked of things Lucy didn't want to think about, the most pleasant of which could be described as 'wet dog.' They gave it a quick look-over but were unwilling to search it very thoroughly. The next three rooms were all the same way. Finally, the last door of the hallway opened and the contents quite nearly took their breath away.

It had definitely been a treasure room at some point. It wasn't as well organized as the one at Cair Paravel, but the things it held were no less stupendous. Piles of artifacts in gold and silver glittered with all colors of precious stones, mountains of gems and priceless relics knee-high. They would have to wade through to get anywhere. But somehow, the awed, impressed feeling that Lucy always got when she looked in the treasure room at the Cair was nullified. She could only feel revolted at the greed of the White Witch. She knew full well that most of the treasure must have been stolen from Narnians over hundreds of years. Why, perhaps some had even belonged to Mr. Tumnus!

"Could be in here," said Peter, drawing his sword and using it to shift some of the things on the floor distastefully. He looked up at his family. "We should probably look around a bit."

They nodded and branched out. Susan hopped lightly over an intricately carved bench of a cherry wood, heading towards the far corner. Lucy looked around for a moment before making her way through the sea of riches and into the center.

"How are we supposed to know if we found it?" asked Edmund.

"I think we'll just know," replied Peter, stooping to pick up a heavy amber locket. He flipped it open, found nothing interesting, and shut it, tossing it back into the heap and looking back up at his brother. "You know, you'll just feel that it's the right thing."

"Right," said Edmund, sounding nonplussed.

"Oh!" came Susan's voice from behind a great pile of gold. She emerged from behind it, staggering under the weight of what looked to be a solid gold sword with a jewel-studded hilt. With great effort, she held it up for them to see. "Who could possibly use something like this?"

Lucy laughed.

"Someone with slow enemies," she joked.

"And soft," said Edmund. "You can't get a sharp edge on gold, it doesn't hold."

"And if you held it for long enough it would melt. Unless you had hands like ice," Peter pointed out. All four of them laughed; Susan disappeared again in the corner. It became a bit of a game. Whenever anyone found something truly ridiculous, they would point it out to their siblings and the four of them would have a good time predicting what it could be used for. The best by far was discovered by Lucy, a candleholder made entirely of glass and shaped like an enormous, grotesque, dead fish. Its mouth was splayed open, glass tongue grooved to hold a thick-based candle.

"Not only is it impractical, it's awful to look at," Susan had said.

After a good fifteen minutes of searching, they decided their time was better spent elsewhere. Lucy followed Peter and Edmund (still chuckling) out of the room, casting a final glance at the gleaming heaps of treasure before heading out into the hallway. They had passed all the other doorways before she realized there were no footsteps behind her. She turned around.

" Susan?" she called. She heard Peter and Edmund stop and turn. There was no reply. " Susan!"

They hurried back to the treasury. There was a shifting noise from the corner she'd been searching, and then her voice came through to them, sounding listless and tired.

"Oh, just go on without me."

Lucy scrambled forward over the cherry wood bench and poked her head around the stack of gold. Susan sat on the floor with her legs folded beneath her, hands clasped in her lap. At her sister's approach she looked up, and Lucy was shocked to see that her eyes were dulled, completely devoid of their normal sparkle. She looked absolutely expressionless.

" Susan, come on," said Lucy, a glimmer of fear in her voice.

"What's the use?" asked Susan bleakly. "It's not as if I can do anything to help."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know what they say. In all the songs they sing about us, it's the same. Peter is brave. Edmund is wise. You're charming. And I am beautiful, nothing more. Just beautiful."

Lucy cast a frightened glance at Peter and Edmund, who stood frozen in the doorway. She turned back to her sister and feeling quite thrown off, knelt next to Susan.

"No, no," said Lucy earnestly. "You're much more than that. You're a brilliant archer and a great fighter and a terrific older sister."

Susan laughed humorlessly, turning her dead gaze to Lucy's face, and the younger nearly flinched to see how apathetic her sister looked.

"A brilliant archer who can't hit a target without a magical bow. A great fighter who can't even defend herself from a handful of mercenaries. A terrific older sister who left her family in danger on the deck of a small ship in the middle of a storm," Susan said monotonously. "No, Lucy, I've never been more than a burden."

"None of that, now," said Lucy, looking for any indication that Susan had been bewitched. This wasn't normal! She could be cool-headed, even indifferent, but not despairing – Susan would never just give up.

"Don't you see, Lucy?" she continued in a whisper. "I never do enough. I have never done enough. I can't fight wars like Peter and Edmund do. I can't make friends like you do. All I'm good for is gowns and formalities. If I hadn't come along on this journey, Peter wouldn't have been captured, you and Ed wouldn't have had to find your own way, you all wouldn't have had to come after me. The delay probably cost even more lives, and it's all because of me."

"But you've done so much!" Lucy protested. "You fought those archers back in the wood. You shot the man who attacked Ed and I when we were at the village. You made me feel better when I had that nightmare…Susan, you're not useless at all, please, what's wrong with you?"

Susan looked at her lap, fingers coming up to play with a silver chain around her neck. Lucy caught that piece of information before her mind tucked it away – _she wasn't wearing a necklace when we came in!_

"Where did you get that?" she asked urgently.

"It doesn't matter."

But it did. Lucy lunged forward and grasped the chain, trying to lift it over Susan's head, but her sister suddenly looked furious and swatted her away, rage rising over the indifference. The instant Susan's hand connected with Lucy's arm, their brothers were tense, as if waiting to see what would happen next, but Lucy knew what to do. She seized the chain, apologizing quickly, and ripped it from her sister's neck. It broke, tiny silver links scattering across the floor. Susan cried out in pain, fell to one side, caught herself on one arm and looked up into Lucy's frightened eyes.

"Ouch," she said, sitting up and putting a finger to the side of her neck. It came away slightly wet with blood.

"I'm sorry," said Lucy.

But Susan shook her head confusedly, muttering 'it's all right' under her breath before looking up at Peter and Edmund, then back at Lucy.

"What happened?" she asked dazedly. Lucy got to her feet, helping Susan to do the same and leading the way back over to the doorway.

"You spouted a lot of rubbish," said Edmund, half a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Er…right," said Susan, looking even more confused, but she seemed to give up after a moment. "Onward, then?"

They nodded and the four of them again set off, back through the narrow hallway with the water-windows, down the short staircase and into the dwarf room. Here they chose another door, the third of four, and made their way up a sloped hallway until emerging into a glorious, rectangular stone chamber.

The ceiling was high, though not so high as the previous room, and there were more windows like the narrow hallway. Unlike the thin slits of the hallway, however, they were great gaping holes that led into a blue underworld, tall as a man and just as wide. Eerie, mottled blue light swirled in patterns on the stone floor. The walls were covered in portraits of statuesque, noble-looking figures with unnaturally pale, smooth skin. They all resembled Jadis. Edmund hunched his shoulders and looked away, choosing instead to stare out a window, but looked up in surprise at Peter when the elder king put a hand on his shoulder and smiled gently.

Lucy's attention, however, was drawn to something else. In the very center of the room there was a tall object covered in a white sheet – so strikingly similar to the way she'd found the wardrobe that it was uncanny. Immediately she felt drawn to it. She vaguely heard Susan warn her to be careful before she was hurrying forward, reaching out, fingers curling in the smooth material, pulling it away. It billowed down and revealed what was underneath: a tall, oval mirror, silver-edged and towering above the young queen. Something about it seemed to almost leer at her, and there was something entirely sinister that she could not place a finger on. She stared, transfixed, her own face staring back out at her, her three siblings at varying distances from her.

And then the reflections began to move, and a scream choked itself in her throat.


	36. Thirty Six

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just have one really pushy, really agitated fan who hasn't been off my case since that last cliffhanger, so here you go, not seven hours later.

* * *

It was as if the portraits had come to life. In the mirror, Lucy saw an impossibly tall, broad man step out of his frame, lifting a wickedly sharp saber and swinging it in a furious arc. Everything seemed to slow down. There was a ringing sound as Edmund drew his sword, but the action came far too late – the man's blade plunged into his chest, ripping through mail and flesh alike. He was dead before he hit the floor, his sword tumbling from his limp fingers.

Lucy was utterly frozen in place. The portrait-man withdrew his blade from her brother's lifeless body, blood running off it as he brought it up to meet Rhindon, which Peter had swung desperately. His face was whiter than snow. Lucy watched as her eldest brother matched the murderer blow for blow, finally overcoming him to thrust his sword into the man's heart with a roar of mindless rage and sorrow and guilt. Then he was crumbling to his knees, drawing Edmund's broken body into his arms, sobbing into his brother's hair, clutching him to his chest as blood poured out over his tunic, staining the golden lion crimson.

But it wasn't over – more men were leaping down from their pictures, the women leaning back and smiling cruelly as four warriors advanced towards the two brothers on the cold stone floor. Lucy saw Susan nock an arrow to her bow, loosing it to find its mark in the neck of one of the men, and the other three changed their course to charge her. Lucy willed herself to draw her dagger, to turn and fight, to do anything – _anything _– to save her family, but it was as if her eyes were magically frozen on the mirror. She watched as Peter, shaking violently, set Edmund's body on the floor, throwing out a leg and tripping one of the portrait warriors. Then he was rising, Rhindon in hand, racing towards the enemy.

And suddenly, Lucy remembered.

_More statues. A young woman with an arrow on her bow, grim determination on her tear-tracked face, beautiful even in stone. Behind her the crumpled form of a boy still on the path to manhood, facedown on the cold floor, sword lying inches from his limp, marbled hands. And, closest to Lucy, a warrior whose face still radiated bloodlust as he charged forward towards an unknown enemy with his sword uplifted. Beyond the madness in his face, a horrible grief and guilt. _

Her voice returned and scream after scream of terror and despair ripped itself from her mouth, body rigid with disbelief. The mirror loomed above her, ensnaring her gaze, disabling her from looking away. This was no nightmare. She could not awaken to Susan's soothing words. She retched, grasping at thin air, looking for something to hold on to. It felt like an eternity before something slammed into her, knocking her away from the mirror and sending both of them skidding a good five feet across the floor. Lucy lay there for a moment and sobbed. There was a hand on the back of her neck, lifting her head up, and another wrapped around her back. She prepared for the inevitable death blow, but it did not come, and she became dimly aware that someone was calling her name as if from very far away, sounding scared and concerned; when she finally dared to look, her stare was met by two very familiar eyes.

"Ed?" she gasped. "But you…you're…"

She looked at his chest, where a gaping hole should have been. There was nothing. Not even a rip in the fabric. Running her hand over the area, she looked back up at his face, still breathing heavily and her heart still pounding.

"Lucy?" said Susan, who had knelt beside them. "Are you all right? You were screaming so loudly, we didn't know what to do. What did you see?"

She couldn't bring herself to answer. Instead, she began to cry again, her arms around Edmund's neck. She felt hands, presumably Peter's, help them both into a sitting position but it didn't stop her tears. Feeling like she had to say something, though, she attempted to explain what she had seen.

"P…portraits," she stuttered, muffled slightly in Edmund's tunic.

"What about the portraits, Lu?" asked Peter softly, rubbing her back.

" Came t…to life. At…tacked you." She sniffed, hiccupping slightly.

"I'm sorry," said Susan, and leaned forward to hug both Lucy and Ed. It felt almost like the aftermath of the Battle of Beruna, when Edmund really _had _been stabbed, and their family had come together so wholly in that moment. But Lucy did not feel Peter's arms, and when she looked up to see why not, it was to see him looking towards the doorway, jaw tight, eyes wide with surprise.

"What is it, Pe…" Susan began, but cut off in horror. The Pevensies disentangled themselves from one another, all revolving to face the woman who stood in the entryway.

She was tall, but not like Jadis was tall. Her height seemed more a coincidence than a sign of power or rank, and where the Winter Queen had towered above all with an air of unquestionable authority, this woman merely looked angry in a childish sort of way. Her hair, as Perick had said, was white-gold and long, hanging in ripples down her back. She was slender and lithe. A long white robe dripped water and clung to her frame as she stood there, eyeing the intruders with bright green eyes that seemed to crackle with some sort of borrowed energy, fingers twisting compulsively around the scepter she carried. On her other hand, bony, webbed fingers were curled into a fist. She opened her mouth, revealing filed teeth.

"You finally came," she hissed, striding forward into the room. Lucy felt Ed pull her tighter against himself, Susan holding them both and glaring defiantly at the nymph. Peter stood, hovering over them with his sword in hand, eyeing the newcomer with a cool distaste.

"Why have you brought thieves and murderers into our country?" he demanded.

"This is not your country," spat Zale, pointing her scepter accusingly at him. "You were not born here. You have no right to rule Narnia."

"It was Aslan, not us, who decided the matter. You doubt his judgment?" Peter asked calmly. He looked relaxed, but Lucy did not miss how tight his hold on his sword was, nor how his other hand was straying to the buckle that would loose his shield from his back.

"Aslan?" said the nymph with a bitter laugh. "Where was Aslan when Jadis overtook Narnia? Where was Aslan when she froze my lake with spells, held me captive for a hundred years? And where is Aslan now, O High King? He has fled again, leaving _children _to oversee his precious country! I have no allegiance to the fool."

"To speak such a thing is treason," said Edmund, stiffening. "Aslan is a great king. You have no place to slander him so."

"And from whose mouth do these words come? The very boy whose greed brought about the Lion's death!"

Edmund's cheeks burned red and he loosened his hold on Lucy, as if embarrassed to be in her company. She only hugged him tighter.

"You would do best not to speak of things you don't understand," said Susan coolly. She moved one side slightly, shielding her younger siblings from Zale's view, then bent over a tiny bit and whispered into Lucy's ear, "Lu. This will break into fighting soon, and I need you to…"

"I'm not running away," whispered Lucy fiercely, as Peter again addressed the false queen.

"I wasn't going to ask you to, Lu, now just listen!" Susan whispered back. "Ed will need his shield. Do you understand?"

Lucy gave a tiny nod, inconspicuously unbuckling the strap that ran across her brother's chest. He whispered his thanks, one hand coming away from her back to rest on the floor, ready to whip out his shield at a moment's notice. Zale and Peter were now growing more and more angry, the nymph's cheeks getting more and more flushed, her grip on her scepter growing tighter and tighter. The water at the windows was growing wilder, and waves were breaking out, splashing against the stone sills.

"You have poisoned this area with corruption and lust for power," accused Peter, raising his sword. His siblings tensed at his feet.

"True Narnia will never see humans on its thrones!" shrieked Zale, and lifted her scepter purposefully. Lucy felt herself grow faint as her vision appeared to come true, but this time they were all together as the paintings on the walls sprang into action, barreling out of their canvases to charge at the Pevensies. She hurriedly rolled off Edmund's lap and in an instant he was scooping up his shield, drawing his sword and leaping upright at Peter's side. Susan pulled Lucy to her feet and the latter drew her dagger even as her sister brought a red-fletched arrow to her bow. There was a moment with only the pounding of advancing feet, and then the final battle began.


	37. Thirty Seven

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just received a whole lot of death threats when I got stuck grappling with writer's block. You guys are brutal!

**Notice: **To anyone following "The Way Things Are" by A. Amelia Black (and if you aren't, you should be, it's quite lovely), know that she's been blocked from updating until next Monday, so don't be impatient with her.

* * *

"Citizens of Charn!" cried Zale, her scepter held high. The men and women who had stepped from the portraits did not so much as flinch. "The murderers of your kinsman are here! Finally you shall have revenge!"

She needn't have goaded them on. Lucy saw Peter deftly dispatch one of them with a quick sword maneuver before she had her own foe to watch out for, a towering woman holding a javelin which she thrust towards the youngest queen. Dropping into a crouch, Lucy swept her dagger across the ankles of her attacker. The woman did not cry out but fell, lips parted in a silent scream. Even as she collapsed, she made another desperate lunge with her weapon outstretched, attempting to puncture Lucy's stomach, a move that was easily avoided. Lucy suddenly became aware that the painted people made no noise. While it was interesting, it was not important, and the warrior instinct rising within her tossed the information aside and focused on more important things, like defending Susan so that she could use her bow and arrow.

Something cold and wet suddenly surged around her ankles. With a surprised shout, she jumped out of the shallow water that had abruptly poured in from the windows. She looked up in time to see two things: Zale had just completed a complex gesture with her scepter, which Lucy guessed had brought in the water, and there was a burly man about to swing a chain-and-ball-type weapon at her sister's head. Hurtling forward, she leapt at him and drove her dagger into the arm which held his weapon. He let go of it, one of his legs jerking up to knock her away as his arm gushed a strange, pulpy, flesh-colored substance that she suddenly realized was paint.

Lucy slashed at the man again, this time across his chest, and her dagger slid through his armor as he fell back with a look of fierce rage upon his face. She fell with him, just barely managing to withdraw her dagger and scramble upright before the next opponent was upon her. This time it was a hook-nosed man with two long, thin swords, leering as he whirled both of them around at blurring speeds. Lucy felt one of them rush by the side of her head and cried out fearfully. A second after there was a dull _thock _and the man was splashing down into the ankle-high water, one of Susan's arrows protruding from his chest, one sword still flailing desperately. Kicking the weapon away from him, Lucy stood and caught her breath for a moment.

The numbers of the portrait people were dwindling fast, and her family had yet to take any serious injuries. Ed had a thin cut across his right cheek and Susan was favoring her left arm, but it seemed the battle would be won quite easily. The water was still pouring in from the windows, however, and Lucy noticed with increasing trepidation that if it got much higher she would have trouble moving. Throwing a quick glance up, she noticed that Zale was standing behind the struggling painting-warriors and spinning her scepter in intricate patterns, webbed fingers deftly twirling it as she brought wave after wave crashing down into the room.

"Lucy!" called Susan suddenly, and she felt a hand close over her shoulder, forcing her down. Something heavy whooshed over her head and collided with the wall with dangerous force. Stone crumbled, showering down into the water and spraying both sisters thoroughly. Lucy struggled to her feet, taking a defensive stance as a thin-lipped woman charged towards her with a spiked club. Susan had apparently fallen while pulling Lucy out of harm's way, and was still struggling to regain her footing in the waves that were now up to the younger queen's calves.

The club came smashing down towards them. Lucy sidestepped it, her movement slightly sluggish due to the water, and as the woman struggled to recover from the momentum of her attack she drove her dagger into a chink in her enemy's armor. The woman went rigid and slipped sideways to join the increasing number of figures in the shallows. Lucy reached out a hand and helped Susan to her feet, and the both of them scanned the thinning ranks for their brothers, their red tunics stark against the faded portrait colors. Edmund was dueling with two sinister-looking men at once, but not having a hard time with it; the picture people didn't seem to be very powerful. Peter, meanwhile, had broken through their ranks and had taken to slashing apart the canvases themselves. The reason became apparent a second later as the untouched canvas nearest Lucy suddenly had a new occupant, who jumped out at the two sisters with a double-bladed dagger in hand.

Susan made quick work of him and before he even had a chance to attack, he was splashing down with an arrow through his heart. They quickly took to destroying more of the paintings themselves, since Ed didn't seem to need any help, and within half a minute there were only a few left untouched in the hall. The water was now at the level of Lucy's knees, and the bodies on the floor were disintegrating like paper. Peter helped Ed to finish off the last of the picture people, and as Lucy and Susan took care of the rest of the portraits and waded over to join them, they stood in a line, breathing hard, staring at Zale, who was still standing in the door and looking murderous.

"Imitations!" said Susan disdainfully. "Everything here is an imitation! Paintings and mirrors and illusions – whatever power you have is only a copy of the power that remains in this castle, and a weak one at that!"

"You stupid girl!" spat Zale, looking very angry but somehow very juvenile. Her cheeks were flushed and she stood there, shaking and glaring at them. "Is _this _an illusion?"

She gestured to the rising waves in the room, and Lucy became aware of just how cold it was. The waters had been above her boots for a little while but she hadn't noticed their absolute frigidity.

"You have intruded upon my lake and disturbed my sanctuary!" the nymph accused. "You have entered this land by chance, taken it captive through luck and lies! Perhaps this new, weak Narnia will bow at your feet, but I stand against you as I stood against Jadis!"

"Then you've missed something entirely, because we _aren't _Jadis," said Edmund exasperatedly. Zale's glare snapped to him, a sick smile twisting her thin lips.

"No?" she said. "Who is to say you do not carry some of her poison in you still, blood-traitor?"

"That is long forgiven," said Peter angrily.

"You forget treachery so hurriedly!" shrieked Zale, suddenly furious. The water was creeping up Lucy's thighs now, wetting her tunic and reducing her legs to frozen pillars of skin and bone. She shivered violently. Zale continued. "I suffered a hundred years, and I will not forget! I have done so much more for Narnia than you will ever do. I have bled and frozen and waited for ever so long, and then four children come and are set upon golden thrones in a faraway hall, crowned as rulers. How do you claim to know this land? How, when you have been here scarcely four years?"

"Aslan chose our tasks for us. Challenge us, and you challenge him," said Susan. The waves lapped at Lucy's waist, pushing against the cordial on her belt.

"Aslan! Do not speak to me of the fool. He has deserted us too many times. Now, Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve, draw your weapons and fight me unless you are all words and no swords," Zale snarled. She lifted her scepter high and swung it in a tight arc, striking a point in the water, and suddenly the room was like the sea in the storm, white-capped waves leaping up at them and spraying them with freezing droplets.

"Lucy, Susan," said Peter quietly as he lifted his sword, "Somewhere in this room is the thing we need to destroy. Stay back, don't fight her, find it and get rid of it. Ed and I will hold her off."

"But…" began Susan, but he cut her off. The waves surged up at Lucy's stomach.

"Go!" he commanded, shared a brief glance with Edmund, then both of them charged. Zale reached down into the water and withdrew a long, thin sword. Unlike them she seemed entirely unaffected by the flood; on the contrary she seemed even more comfortable in it than she had on land, and as she brought her sword slashing towards the two brothers Lucy felt a surge of fear for them. But then Susan was hurriedly wading forward, looking up and around and all over the room for anything that could be what they were looking for. Lucy, too, began to look, though it took all she had not to look back at the battle when the first sound of steel on steel rang above the crashing waves.

But the water kept rising, and Lucy realized that if they didn't find it in time, no matter how Zale fought, they would all be dead.


	38. Thirty Eight

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I only might have made mistakes writing about them, 'cause someone was too impatient to let me proofread.

* * *

"There's nothing _here!" _yelled Lucy over the noise of the room. "I saw when we came in, there's nothing but that mirror and the portraits!"

"Well maybe it's that, then!" Susan shouted back, casting a frightened glance towards the swordfighting trio near the door. Zale wasn't a terrific warrior but the water slowed the brothers down considerably, as it was now up to Lucy's chest and still rising. The bodies on the floor had dissolved like the paintings they were, but their weapons remained there and she found herself stumbling on unseen weaponry. Twice she thought she had cut through the sole of her boot when she'd stepped on an unseen blade. Plowing through the leaping waves, Lucy tried to help herself move quicker with wide strokes of her arms. She and Susan set out for the mirror but it seemed to be taking ages, the numbing iciness of the surging water making her feel tired and detached.

Finally they were standing by the mirror. It was half-consumed by the lake, but the upper half still reared clear of the waves, the silver frame glinting in the light. The wall-torches had not yet gone out, though they were hissing and spitting as they were struck by the spray as if commenting on the battle still taking place. Lucy looked into the mirror somewhat reluctantly but it was acting as a true mirror now, showing the deadly dance of swords that Peter, Edmund and Zale were partaking in.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

"Smash it," said Susan. "It's not like it will be a loss if it's not what we need."

"But smash it with what?"

"Oh for heaven's sake, Lucy! Anything!"

Susan took a swing at it with her bow, and as the pliant wood struck the mirror's face hairline cracks etched across it. Lucy sheathed her dagger, unbuckled the sheath itself from her belt, grabbed it by the blade end and brought the dagger's hilt crashing into the object. The top part of it shattered entirely, showering them with brilliant pieces of shining, broken glass. She cried out in pain and plunged her arm beneath the water's surface, attempting to brush away the shards with her other hand. The waves were now just below her shoulders, dragging at her. Both sisters quickly broke apart as much of the mirror as possible, until it was just a frame with jagged pieces on a silver back, clinging to the edges.

But as they looked back at the battle, Lucy realized with a sickening lurch that nothing had changed. Zale was still smirking as she seemed to move faster and faster in the water, sword sweeping in long strokes that Peter and Edmund were having increasing trouble avoiding. The scepter, Lucy noticed, was cracked and floating away; one of her brothers must have broken it at some point. But there was nothing else in the room! What could it be?

"Lucy!" Susan shouted urgently. Her head whipped around to face her sister, who had a hand extended. "Hurry towards the sides of the room, maybe you can climb one of the portraits!"

"What for?" Lucy yelled back.

"Honestly, you're not going to last much longer in this water! If you get to the sides, I can still look for another minute or so!"

"But if we don't find it…"

"Just go, Lu, I'll do it!"

Lucy bit her lip hard but re-clipped her sheath to her belt and struck out for the portraits. She was about halfway there, with the water up to her neck, when a hoarse scream broke through the noise of the waves. Her line of vision whipped to the swordfighters in time to see Edmund slipping beneath the surface of the water, his face pale except for a bloody mark upon his brow. The hilt of Zale's sword was red with his blood. Obviously she had struck him with it, and Lucy swallowed her own scream to rush towards them as Peter slammed Rhindon into Zale's weapon with an angry yell. She staggered back, and he looked frantically down into the water, but Ed did not resurface.

Just as the water reached Lucy's chin, she saw Peter cast aside his sword and shield to plunge down into the swirling waves. Zale smiled a horrible smile, stepping back and waiting patiently for them to come up. Lucy ducked her own head beneath the water to see what was going on, and in through the freezing deep-blue she could dimly make out her two brothers. Ed looked unconscious, suspended just above the floor with blood trailing out from his temple. Peter dove down, urgently sliding one arm around his brother's waist and pulling him upright as he pushed off hard with his feet and struggled to the surface with Edmund clasped to his chest. Lucy, who broke above the waves a second before they did, screamed a warning, and it was just in time – Zale swung her sword hard, aiming to disable both kings. Peter, still holding Edmund upright with his left arm, threw up his right and twisted his wrist so that the blade came down jarringly hard on his gauntlet.

An arrow flew past Lucy's head and she turned to see Susan, awkwardly holding her bow above the water. But the room seemed to contain its own gale, and wind blew her shot off course. Susan lowered her weapon uncertainly, and Lucy knew she was afraid of hitting either one of their brothers. So it came to her – she was the only one left with a usable weapon. The water was creeping up past her chin and no matter how fast she tried to move, it didn't seem to make any difference, almost as if the waves were pushing her back towards Susan and the mirror; Zale lashed out with her sword again and this time Peter couldn't block it without dropping Edmund. The blade pierced deeply just below his collarbone and Lucy could only watch with her heart in her mouth as his eyes rolled up in agony and he stumbled forward before both her brothers tumbled down into the waves. Her last vision before they disappeared was of Ed's lolling head pressed in the crook of Peter's neck, the High King's blood running down both their chests, _staining the golden lion red…_

It was a nightmare that only became fuller as the water rose to meet Lucy's lips in a frosty kiss. In a few precious seconds she knew she would be unable to breathe at all. Cold despair welled up like the waves inside her, swallowing every hope she'd had, choking her, but she forced herself to take one last enormous breath before the water would be too high, sealing all their dooms. But suddenly, Susan hefted her up, bracing her against her hip like a small child, her own head just barely above the surface.

"I'm sorry, Lu," she gasped, "So sorry. You shouldn't have to go through this…"

Panicked tears mingled with the water dripping from the ends of Lucy's hair as the two sisters fought for their last moments. Zale was advancing towards them slowly, almost lazily, a mocking smile of pointed teeth marking her face. Again, Lucy had the impression that she was somehow a vessel, just someone using a borrowed power, not a true sorceress.

Suddenly Susan dropped Lucy and both of them plunged into the waves. Confused, alarmed and underwater, Lucy struggled to see what was going on until hands closed over her outer tunic, lifting it over her head urgently. As it floated away, she realized Susan was now pulling at her mail shirt, but it was still belted; Lucy quickly undid the buckle and practically ripped it off and then her sister was struggling to remove her armor. Her coherency was fading fast with the numbing chill of the lake and her lungs had begun to demand the refilling she could not afford. With a final, bleak shudder, she resigned herself to this fate, hoping only that Aslan could forgive their failure…

And suddenly the weight was gone, her tunic sinking like a stone to the floor. Now in only her dress and boots, Lucy looked up in surprise at Susan, whose gaze was lidded and hazy beneath the water. She pointed to the surface, and Lucy could deny her screaming lungs no longer. Casting a last, frightened glance at her sister, she pushed off the floor and shot up to burst free from the waves, taking in air in greedy gulps. She treaded water for a brief second before turning to again face Zale. The nymph leered at her, raising her sword up, but Lucy took off swimming in the other direction, back towards the mirror, which was just barely above the water now. Shrieking laughter sounded behind her.

"You think to outmaneuver me in the water?" Zale laughed scornfully. Lucy could hear her moving quickly towards her, but it made little difference now; she was going to die by the water or by the nymph and she would prefer to take her enemy down with her. Her dagger was still somewhere at the bottom, with Susan…_oh, Aslan, Susan…all of them…_but the broken shards of the mirror would make suitable weapons. As she reached it, Lucy grasped a large, jagged piece and broke it off with a resounding crack. The edges were razor-sharp and cut into her hands deeply but she had no greater desire than to kill the accursed woman at the moment, to revenge her family now drowning beneath nearly six feet of water.

Zale slashed out with her sword. Lucy, clinging to the mirror itself, shunted herself to one side and led the blade plunge into the silver backing instead. It punctured it completely and the momentum of the attack created a long gash in the metal before the nymph's blade retracted and she prepared for another strike. Leaping towards her, Lucy let out a howl of rage and desperation and clumsily attempted to drive the glass through her neck. Though it seemed to surprise her, Zale ducked in time, and Lucy ended up falling straight upon her, clinging to the witch's shoulders for dear life. A second later she had been thrown back and slammed into the mirror again painfully. Zale lifted her sword high as the youngest queen slid down into the water, arms and legs flailing madly to keep her afloat.

"Die already, little girl!" screamed Zale, but Lucy had seen it – a glint of something icy blue and glowing in the mangled backing of the mirror. Like the staff that turned those to stone. Like a fragment, an imitation, a copy, and suddenly she knew what she had to do. Tightening her blood-slick grip on the mirror shard, Lucy clawed her way back up high enough to ram it into the blue glow with all her strength. For a moment, nothing happened. Then there was an awful, ear-shattering screech from behind her, and something very powerful and oh-so-cold rushed up through her arms and seemingly to her very heart. Roaring silence rushed around her; the world slid in and out of focus, and suddenly she realized the water buoying her up was rushing away, and as she slipped down to smash back down into the freezing stone floor her last rational thought was that at least she might have saved her siblings. And then everything was gone.


	39. Thirty Nine

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just love them to death death death death. Death...now there's an idea.

* * *

_Blurred voices through a haze of pain. Low buzzing in her ears. A terrible dull ache throughout her body. Cold. So cold. _

"Is she alive?" a cracked, fearful voice said. Lucy didn't want to wake up. The more her brain worked, the more her body hurt, and the more she became aware of the screaming agony in her hands. They felt as if they'd been cut in two. Perhaps they had.

"I think so," said another voice, and a hand reached out to press against her icy cheek. She flinched away; the warmth emanating from the hand burned like fire. The second voice murmured, "Oh, thank Aslan."

"D'you think she needs the cordial, Su?" asked the first voice, and the coughing fit that followed the words told Lucy that it was probably Edmund. But how? He'd been underwater for far too long. Her mind toyed with the idea that they were all dead for a moment, but dead people didn't feel pain like the pain she was feeling. Or at least, they shouldn't.

"I think whatever did this isn't something cordial will heal," said Susan, and Lucy felt her hair being smoothed back tenderly. "Her hands we should do something about though."

There was a sound like cloth ripping, and Lucy suddenly found her voice to scream in anguish as something rough and wet and cold touched down on her right palm. A pain like nothing she'd ever felt lanced through her arms and the muscles convulsed of their own accord, until a gentle hand touched the icy side of her face and she shuddered, her tired mind slipping back towards unconsciousness but not fully so. She turned her face to one side as if it would help dull the agony.

"Ed," asked Susan's voice, as if from several rooms away. "Take the cordial and go look after Peter. Lu's going to be all right."

"Right," said Ed hoarsely, and Lu felt hands clumsily pulling at the clasp of the cordial pouch. Too tired and in pain to help, she coughed feebly and shivered, feeling stone under her back. The weight of the cordial bottle was abruptly gone from her hip. Footsteps echoed, and she suddenly became aware that there was another sound in the room, a sort of moaning and weeping. Susan seemed to have finished cleaning her right hand. There was another noise, more ripping cloth, and then something was being wrapped tightly around her palm. She whimpered in pain.

"Oh, do stop sniveling," said Susan irritably. A wave of confusion and hurt washed over Lucy.

"Sorry," she rasped. The words stung in her throat.

"Oh, no, Lu, I wasn't talking to you," replied Susan. "And don't try to speak. Just relax."

"Who?" Lucy croaked, and she could practically see her sister's mouth pressed into a disapproving line. A small cry escaped her lips as another cloth met her left hand, carefully cleaning away the blood she knew must be there. It still felt fresh, so she couldn't have been unconscious for very long.

"Zale," muttered Susan. "Whatever you did certainly changed her. She hasn't stopped apologizing since she woke us. At least she's keeping the water out; whatever you did apparently _also _broke whatever spell was keeping this place from going under."

Lucy opened her mouth to speak but Susan kept going. The warmth of the blood on her hands was fading away, the stinging agony intensified against the damp cloth.

"Don't talk, Lu," Susan said. "I know what you're going to ask. Yes, Zale is free from the spell that caught her when she found the mirror. The back contained a piece of the same material that Jadis used in her wand, and when you destroyed it, the spell was broken. All of us are still alive because she expelled the water from the room and used her natural magic to resuscitate Peter and Ed, who would probably be dead without her help. And now she's in the corner, you can hear her whimpering."

Lucy gave a tiny nod, feeling quite sure that the room hadn't been the only thing drained. She was absolutely exhausted.

"Peter?" she managed to ask feebly.

"I'm going to be frank," said Susan. "He's not going to win any marathons at the moment. If he had lost any more blood, well…Ed would be High King. But with your cordial he should be all right, if extremely lightheaded and weak."

There were voices from somewhere nearby, sounding agitated. Lucy opened her eyes just the tiniest bit and the world swam into focus above her. Susan was looking over at somewhere else in the room, still gently swabbing at Lucy's left hand. The stone ceiling was above her, and Lucy couldn't see anything else.

"Don't let him sit up, Ed," called Susan.

"Down, Peter," growled Edmund from a ways off.

The tiniest flicker of a smile pulled at the corner of Lucy's mouth. Things were at least back to one level of normalcy; Peter and Edmund were now bickering fiercely ("Nono, I'm fine, really, where's Lu, let me…"; "Bullocks, get down and shut up, you're not going anywhere…").

When at last both Lucy's hands were bandaged and Susan was satisfied that she had no other wounds that needed attending, she was helped into a sitting position and was able to see the rest of the room. There was a ring around the stone walls, like a ring in the bathtub, but it was below the higher torches so some light still shone to cast the rest of the room into odd shadows. The slashed canvases and broken mirror stood like distant reminders of something twisted and evil. There were bloodstains on the mirror shards. _That's my blood, _thought Lucy with a shiver. More frightening were the bloodstains by the doorway for they were far greater in size. When her eyes finally came to rest on her eldest brother, she had to fight down a wave of nausea. Both her brothers were absolutely covered in blood, some of it now crusted but much of it still fresh. Edmund was holding Peter down with one hand, testifying to just how weak the elder was at the moment, the younger looking tired and sullen with a large gash on his temple.

"Zale," said Susan, standing up. The nymph, who was huddled in a corner in a mess of blood-stained white robes and tangled gold hair, looked up through wide, terrified green eyes. They were no longer the intense jade-green of before but rather a milder green, and looked far less intimidating.

"What does Your Majesty require of me?" she asked fearfully, shrinking back even further.

"We wish to leave this place," said Susan. "Is there a way you could send all four of us together?"

Zale shook her head, her hair rippling like waves.

"No, Your Majesty," she said hoarsely. "The mermaids of this lake have a mask that could…"

"Yes, yes, we know about that," said Susan impatiently. "If that's the only way we'll just call them up. Lu, you'll be going first. There should be a party on the lakeshore waiting to greet you. You'll have to tell us your story later. And if we haven't mentioned it before, Lu…you're amazing. You saved all our lives."

Smiling weakly, Lu nodded and coughed again. It was about five minutes before the mermaids arrived (Zale offered to call them), and when they did arrive, Susan and Edmund both helped to carry Lucy over to the window. There, she was given the mask, it was fitted over her face, and she was placed in the arms of a broad-chested merman who bore her very gently through the freezing water. She scarcely remembered the journey there, as it was simply a blur of blue and swaying plants, and finally she was breaking the surface, the mask was tenderly pulled from her face and she was alone on her side on the shore sand. Suddenly a hand closed over her shoulder, and she went rigid, reaching for her dagger, but it wasn't there. A low, warm laugh echoed in her ears before she was swept up into a hug and again carried onto soft grass with sunlight streaming down on her face. Smiling faintly, she pressed her face into the wonderfully dry ground and sighed contentedly.

"Welcome back, my valiant queen," said Thomas cheerfully.


	40. Forty

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just pwn them.

* * *

Lucy had a feeling she wouldn't be truly dry until she had a chance to change out of everything she was wearing, but after an hour in the sun she certainly felt a little better. The army outpost at the lake's edge, Thomas among them, had supplied the four monarchs with food, drink and news; Oreius had arrived just after they'd left the camp where they'd been reunited with Peter, and had taken command of the situation at once. The mercenary camps had been rounded up for the most part, and one of the holes between worlds had been discovered. In a few days they had managed to send most of the approximate two-hundred world-crossers back to their homes. The refugees like Perick and his family were being relocated to southern Narnia, where the climate was more agreeable, and it was possible that some would move into Archenland granted the Pevensies spoke to King Lune first.

Because Lucy had actually fallen asleep almost immediately after reaching land, she wasn't sure quite what happened in between her arrival and her awakening. In any case, when she came to, the rest of her things (tunic, chain mail, belt, dagger and cordial) were lying next to her and slowly drying, the moisture on them running off in the grass, it looked to be late afternoon, and the wonderfully warm sun was soaking her generously in warmth and light. She felt immeasurably better than she had only an hour before. Her hands had been redressed while she'd slumbered, so thankfully she had not felt it, and the new bandages were clean and dry and carefully wrapped. Edmund was sitting beside her when she woke up, the cut on his temple obviously treated. When she awoke with a loud yawn he looked over at her and grinned.

"Afternoon, sleepyhead," he teased. She smiled blearily and lifted a hand to scrub at her eyes, but whimpered and pulled it away when a sharp twinge of pain shot through to her wrist. Ed lifted a hand as if to catch someone's attention and called, "Susan, she's awake."

Their sister came bustling over a second later, kneeling beside Lucy and peppering her with questions about how she felt and if she was hungry or tired and assuring her that she didn't have to say what happened until she wanted to. She missed most of it, her mind still blissfully preoccupied with the fact that she seemed to be warm and safe and in the process of drying. Eventually Susan gave up trying to get answers from her and simply sat by them, rising a fraction of an instant later to confront Peter, who had apparently gotten up to see Lucy.

"And what do you think _you're _doing?" she demanded. Peter looked hurt, flopping down on the grass at Lucy's feet. Lucy noticed for the first time that the rest of her siblings had also removed their chain-mail. There were still slight bloodstains on Peter's clothes, but Ed had escaped most of it. Susan looked unharmed for the most part except for the hemline of her dress, which was now just below her knees (several inches higher than before) and very tattered, and Lucy judged that it was this material that had made her first clumsy bandages.

"I wanted to see Lu," said Peter sulkily, as Susan continued to glare down at him.

"Then you should have said so, and we would have brought her to you," Susan scolded him. "Now lie down."

"I drank the cordial! For the love of Aslan, why isn't that enough?" he complained. Edmund reached over and shoved him to the ground none too gently, ignoring the _oof _that resulted.

"Because you were a bloody moron and chose to get us both killed instead of saving your own skin," he replied testily. Lucy giggled as Peter maneuvered himself so that his head rested on Ed's lap, at which the younger boy looked indignant and remarked, "Hey! Did I say you could do that?"

"You don't make a very good pillow," muttered Peter, still grumpy. He closed his eyes and folded his arms over his stomach. Susan threw up her hands and sat by the rest of her siblings with a look of exasperation.

"You haven't told us your story, Lu," she said after a minute. "Do you want to tell us what happened now?"

Lucy shrugged, then nodded.

"You two went under," she said to Peter and Edmund, surprised at the hoarseness of her own voice. She realized hadn't spoken in quite some time. "And the water was getting awfully high. I thought for sure I would drown but Susan saved my life, she took off my armor for me."

Lucy smiled gratefully at her sister, who returned the gesture.

"When I swam up, Zale was still there and waiting. I knew I couldn't escape her but I couldn't just let her kill me, so I swam to the mirror and used a piece of the glass as a weapon. She tried to stab me but hit the frame instead, and I saw something that looked like the White Witch's staff, or just the kind of color that comes after it's used. I attacked it with the glass I was holding and from there I don't remember anything."

"And the glass is why your hands are all cut up, right?" said Ed. She nodded, flinching at the memory.

"That's incredible, Lu," said Susan.

"Incredible?" said Peter, opening one eye. "Try ruddy fantastic. I think Aslan was onto something with that title of yours."

Lucy felt herself blush and looked down at the grass. A warm sense of pride was simmering in her stomach, making her feel rather light and comfortable. She'd done it – she'd saved her family, maybe even saved Narnia, and suddenly she felt very silly for having ever thought that she needed the cordial to be important. Smiling more, she lifted her face to bask in the sunlight. Had it been this warm when they'd left? She wasn't sure; perhaps it was just that anything seemed warm after the freezing bath she'd just taken. In any case, it looked as though things were going to be all right.

They spent the rest of the day lounging on the lakeside, recuperating. A gryphon scout from the army delivered fresh clothes and more rations, and Thomas insisted on building a grand fire to imitate the one they'd had at the riverside almost a week before. Lucy was slightly shocked to realize that such a short span of time had passed, because there was simply so much that had happened in it. It was hard to wrap her mind around. But as she sat there by the fireside with the delicious smell of cooking food all around, she cast such difficult thoughts aside and simply settled back into the wordless placidness that she'd found since she'd broken the castle's spell. It was as if she was simply too tired to be cranky.

Hands, Lucy discovered, were never truly appreciated until they weren't in working order. She hadn't been aware that she used her hands to get up, and Susan had to help pull her to her feet. She never noticed that her hands had always been doing something before, resting on her belt or fiddling with her sleeve or tucking back her hair or at least _something_ until she found herself doing it all the time and crying out in surprise and pain. She couldn't dress herself in the fresh clothes, Susan had to help with that too, and when it came time to dinner it was Edmund who in a bizarre streak of patience sat by her side and helped her to accomplish the suddenly daunting task that was eating. Peter often made attempts to help her but was forcibly restrained by the middle two siblings.

"At the beginning of this expedition you told me you weren't superhuman," Susan said sternly. "Now it's time to remember this, and trust Ed and I to do things properly. You lost far too much blood, Peter, and even you aren't capable of a full recovery in four hours. Let someone else worry for a change."

He grumbled, but his attempts to get up grew less frequent.

When Lucy awoke the next morning, it was still sunny, and there was another scout in the camp. She explained that Oreius had sent word that the Pevensies were to return to Cair Paravel, as the mercenary situation was under control and did not require their attention. Along with the scout were two fine horses, which she explained were supposed to bear them back to the castle.

"But there are four of us," said Peter confusedly. "Why only two horses?"

"General Oreius had word of Your Highness's condition and thought it best you did not ride alone," said the gryphon. Peter spluttered for a moment before turning to his family for some sort of support, but all he got was an eye-rolling from Ed, an "I-told-you-so" look from Susan and a sympathetic smile from Lucy.

"This is humiliating," he muttered a few minutes later, seated behind Edmund, who held the reins of a large black stallion. Lucy was in front of Susan, her sister's arms on either side of her and also holding the reins. Their horse was a sleek grey mare. Waving goodbye to the outpost on the lakeshore, the four guided their steeds to the edge of the forest and prepared to set off. The saddlebags were packed with rations for the trip, the sun was shining brightly, and the mood was light.

They sped off through the trees, Peter reluctantly taking hold of Edmund's waist when he quite nearly fell off, and suddenly Lucy couldn't resist the urge to laugh. Finally, finally – they were going home.


	41. Forty One

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. But I _almost _gave them a rest in this chapter.

* * *

It took them three days to reach Cair Paravel. Lucy caught sight of it first – a strange twinkling on the horizon, which at first confused her, but then she realized that it was the light reflecting off the hundreds of beautiful glass windows. At this sight, something inside her leapt up. She lifted an arm to point towards it. Susan and Edmund brought the horses around to face it more directly, their shadows falling in front of them as the sun slid to meet the horizon at their backs, and Lucy could practically feel the little tingle of anticipation that ran through all four.

"It's been a while," mused Peter.

"Two weeks is hardly a while," said Susan. But her cheeks suddenly seemed to glow eagerly, and she pressed her heels to into her mount's flanks to set them off at a brisk trot. When Edmund brought his own horse to match the pace, she gave him a competitive glare before glancing down at Lucy, winking, and suddenly they were taking off at full speed, their tired horses apparently just as keen to reach home as they were. Lucy heard Ed give an indignant yell and within seconds they were racing neck and neck. Peter was shouting something, she couldn't hear what as it was lost in the pounding of hooves on the plain, but suddenly the two sisters were pulling ahead. Lucy glanced back for a moment, craning her neck to see around Susan's shoulder.

" Susan, stop!" she said suddenly, and Susan pulled up sharply on the reins. The horse did a bit of a prancing maneuver to turn about-face. Edmund was hurriedly hopping down from the saddle to rush over to Peter, who was sprawled on the ground a fair distance behind them, looking rather dazed. Lucy and Susan quickly dismounted and hastened over to their brothers.

"You ruddy git," Edmund was saying, easing Peter into a sitting position. "Have you broken anything?"

Peter attempted to check himself for injuries, his eyes slightly unfocused and his motions fumbling. Impatiently, Edmund brushed his brother's hands aside and did it himself, their sisters hovering nearby. But Edmund seemed satisfied that there was nothing severe, so Susan and Edmund together helped Peter to stand up between them. When they let go of his arms, he staggered to one side, at which Edmund rolled his eyes, slid an arm up and around the elder king's shoulders, and half-led half-dragged him back over to their horse.

"M'alright," mumbled Peter incoherently, as Edmund helped him back up into the saddle. "Jussa little…" The instant Ed had remounted, Peter slumped forward over his brother's back, his head lolling over Ed's shoulder.

"Dolt," muttered Edmund.

"What happened?" asked Susan worriedly.

"Idiot didn't hold on properly," said Ed, looking down at them. "Fell off as soon as we started moving faster."

"Are you sure he's all right?" asked Lucy, peering over at Peter. He groggily lifted his head up, blinking a few times.

"…be fine," he attempted to say. "Just want to…to…go…" He trailed off.

"Home," completed Susan understandingly. "And so do we. Come on, Lu, let's get a move on. And Ed, make sure he doesn't fall off again. I think he's still a little addled."

Both sisters returned to the mare and mounted, Susan checking that Lucy was comfortable before they again set off towards the castle. The sun was warm upon their backs while the sea became increasingly visible, glinting beautifully in the distance beyond the Cair. The last few miles of their journey seemed slower than the rest, but it was a pleasant sort of slowing, like things were winding down just to welcome them back in.

Almost a half hour later, they passed through the golden gates to the proud, brassy ring of trumpet calls. In the courtyards, people and Beasts of all shapes and sizes were hurrying outside to greet the horse-mounted monarchs, crying out welcomes and inquiring as to the details of their journey. Lucy waved back, as two of her siblings were preoccupied with guiding their steeds and the other was still only semi-conscious. She felt a little strange, knowing that they all must look a bit of a mess, but she smiled and acknowledged their subjects as merrily as she could. At last they were back at the stables, where several stable hands helped them to dismount and took away the horses. Peter stumbled forward the instant he was on the ground. Susan was ready, and managed to hold him upright until Edmund nimbly hopped down off the stallion and took up their brother's other arm. Lucy stepped forward, eager to help, but Susan fixed her with a look.

"Don't you even try," she said warningly. "One Peter in the family is bad enough."

"Thanks," muttered Peter darkly, doing his best to stand on his own. The four of them slowly made their way back out to the main courtyard, where several servants hurried out to greet them and all began to talk at once. When they managed to get organized, the head of staff stepped forward to address the Pevensies.

"Your Majesties," he said, sinking into a deep bow. "Welcome home. It is good to see you are safe and…er…relatively well. I should invite you to your personal chambers to rest. You must be weary."

"That would be perfect, Laslow," said Susan gratefully. "If you could have someone run ahead and run hot baths, we would be most appreciative."

"It will be done, Your Highness," said Laslow, bowing again, and he motioned to another young man who scurried off to do as had been said. The four monarchs continued up the steps and into the main hall, trailed anxiously by their subjects, who seemed curious but afraid of disturbing tired royalty. Lucy caught glimpses of people through doorways and arches, pointing and whispering, looking excited and inquisitive.

It took a good ten minutes to ascend to the tower where their chambers were. When they finally reached it, there were several more servants waiting for them, who took Peter from Ed and Susan and escorted all of them into their private chambers. Lucy found herself in the company of a rosy-cheeked dryad who kindly pulled the cloak from her shoulders and helped her to undress. In the tiled bathroom there was a deep tub full of steaming water, and the warmth emanating from it filled her with an inexplicable sense of eagerness. When she finally slid into the bath, she could have sworn she had died back in the castle, because this had to be what heaven felt like. The water lapped gently at her bare skin, easing all the tension from her muscles, wrapping her in euphoria.

She was dimly aware that the dryad was carefully washing her dirty hair, massaging oil and fragrances into her tired skin, changing the bandages on her hands. But really, it was all irrelevant compared to the feeling that she had. It was a combination of many things, prominent among them warmth and safety and satisfaction. They were home. They were alive. There wasn't much more to wish for. Lucy's tired mind finally began to swirl down into a comfortable darkness, and the next thing she knew, she was in a blue silk nightgown and crawling up into the fluffy depths of her enormous bed. Just before she drifted off to sleep, the door creaked open and Susan poked her head in. She smiled warmly at Lucy, stepping inside and coming to sit on the edge of her bed. Gently brushing some newly dry, clean, soft hair away from Lucy's face, the elder queen leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead tenderly.

"Just wanted to say good night, Lu," she whispered, knowing that her sister was quite close to sleep. "You really were stupendous. I'm so proud of you."

"Love you, Su," Lucy mumbled with her eyes closed, snuggling deeper into the wonderfully silky, warm blankets. Everything felt so very soft and light against her body at the moment.

"Love you too, Lucy," said Susan, and Lucy felt the bed give way as her sister got up, crossed the room and left. The door clicked dimly, leaving her in a moon-drenched room. _Her _room. Home. And this marvelous thought was the last one to make itself known before she succumbed to a deep, restoring slumber.


	42. Forty Two

I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. And I am finally finished abusing them.

* * *

There is nothing so pleasant as waking up in the morning after a good, long, sleep, to the smell of something quite delicious cooking downstairs when you are extraordinarily hungry. Lucy awoke to this most amazing sensation, but even the food wasn't quite enough to draw her from her bed. It just felt so perfect. The sheets glided along her skin flawlessly, and everything was a hazy cocoon of warmth as she lay there, sinking in the generous softness of the mattress. Finally, she pushed the covers aside with the back of her wrists and slid her legs to dangle over the side, her toes just grazing the plush carpeting. She yawned widely and stretched her arms above her head.

The door to the servant's chambers that adjoined to hers opened then, and the dryad from the night before stepped inside, curtseying. She smiled warmly at Lucy and walked over to the bed to help her up and over to the closet, where Lucy pointed randomly at the most attractive piece of fabric that stuck out from the stuffed space. It turned out to be a rosy pink gown, trimmed with gold and lined with a cream-colored silk. The dryad helped her to get dressed in it, then again redressed her hands. Lucy saw that the marks on her palms had faded from swollen red gashes to wide, dark, scabbed lines with a bit of pinkish swelling around the edges. It hurt slightly less to use them now, but she let the dryad wrap fresh linen bandages around them. Then the dryad brushed out her hair, slid her slippers onto her feet and fetched her crown (it had been sent back to Cair Paravel by the sailors).

Technically, breakfast was served down in the Banquet Hall, but Lucy had a feeling no one really expected her and her siblings to be there. So instead, she made her way down a shorter flight of stairs and through a gauzy curtain. Beyond it was a room that the Pevensies had often used for informal meals with just the four of them, a beautiful chamber with windows on all sides that let in a generous amount of light. Peter, Susan and Edmund were already there, sitting on cushions on the floor around the small, circular table. They looked up at her entrance, smiling and beckoning her over to join them.

"How are you feeling, Lu?" asked Peter, for whom a night of sleep seemed to have done wonders. Lucy made her way to the table and sank into an empty cushion cross-legged.

"Fine," she replied genially. She reached for a slice of toast, fumbled with her bandaged fingers for a minute, then nodded gratefully at Edmund, who had just picked it up and placed it in her upturned palm. She brought it to her mouth and attempted to take a bite. It was pushed away by her own mouth. On the second attempt, Susan scooted over next to her, took the toast, and held it in place so that Lucy could finally manage to tear off a bit with her teeth. The youngest queen frowned unhappily.

"I'm sorry, Lucy," said Susan sympathetically. "I know it must be frustrating."

This was quite true. But she managed to get through it, and when the meal was finally finished, the family grudgingly pulled themselves away from their little haven and out to the Great Hall, where court would probably be beginning. They were surprised to find it empty except for one solitary figure, who sat on the edge of the dais of the four thrones. He looked up at their entrance, then stood up with shining eyes and rushed forward towards them.

"Mr. Tumnus!" cried Lucy delightedly, throwing herself into his arms. He laughed happily, almost bleating, and twirled her around before gently setting her down on the tiled floor.

"My Lady Lucy," he said dramatically, sweeping down into a deep bow. He looked back up and winked, then straightened out. "How was your journey?"

"Exciting," she replied eagerly. She sensed her siblings sharing a look before they subtly slipped off down the hallway, leaving her alone with the faun. Then his arm was around her shoulders, guiding her towards the dais, and she sat there with her feet dangling over the edge.

"Do tell me all about it," said Mr. Tumnus. He clasped his hands in his lap and shifted until he was comfortable. Lucy grinned, thinking about just where to begin. Story-telling had always been a bit of a talent of hers, and she suddenly found that even the simplest things became daring acts of heroism, and the mercenaries were transformed into terrifying villains fiercer than any others of their kind. It was all she could do not to have the journey to the underwater castle become a thrilling chase with corrupt water-nymphs. But although she might have exaggerated a little at times, the overall story came out right, and in any case Mr. Tumnus enjoyed it greatly.

"That is quite a tale, Lucy Pevensie," he said with a warm smile. They chatted affably for a long while until there wasn't much left to talk about, and then they stood and bid each other good day. Lucy skipped off down the hallway to find her family.

Edmund she found first, in the library. He was nestled deep in a green plush armchair, so engrossed in a book that he didn't even look up when she came in. For someone who had hated reading before Narnia, he certainly seemed to enjoy it now. Lucy silently crept around the edge of the library until she was standing directly behind the chair, then launched her attack.

"Boo!" she shouted, quickly clambering over the back of the chair and tumbling down into his lap. He gave a panicked yell and the book went flying out of his hands, clattering down some several yards away as she landed heavily atop his stomach. The both of them toppled over the edge of the chair and landed in a tangled heap on the carpet, Lucy giggling uncontrollably and Edmund looking as though he might have a heart attack.

"Why you little…!" he gasped out at last, jabbing a finger into her ribs. She shrieked and tried to swat his tickling hands away, but hissed in pain when the gashes in her hands made themselves known. Halting his assault, Edmund disentangled himself from his little sister and sat up, rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the floor.

"Sorry," said Lucy, not sounding sorry at all. She was beaming from ear to ear.

"Of course you are," grumbled Edmund sarcastically. He leaned back and stretched out a long arm to snag his book, smoothing it shut and placing it on the chair. "I suppose you want me to come with you and do something or another."

She grinned and stood, and when he reluctantly followed suit, trying to hold back an affectionate grin, she threaded her arm into his elbow and set off at a march. They promenaded out of the library, through several corridors and up several flights of stairs, until they were back in the hallway that led to their chambers. Edmund rapped smartly on Peter's door, and a few seconds later it opened. Their older brother looked down at them in mild surprise, taking in their impish expressions before very narrowly avoiding rolling his eyes. He walked over to his desk, shut the notebook he'd been writing in, folded up a map he'd been marking things on, and followed them back out into the hallway without a word. Lucy hurried to the window and poked her head out, taking in the brilliant sunshine. When her eyes settled upon what she was looking for, she turned back to her brothers and led them back down all the stairs and out into the gardens.

Susan looked as though she'd been having a nice chat with someone and had fallen asleep. Her lap contained a half-finished flower chain and her back was against a white-blossomed tree in full splendor. Obviously she'd been there for a little while, because several petals had alighted on her slumbering form, the ivory coloring a stark contrast to her dark hair. The three other Pevensies shared a somewhat gleeful glance.

"Should we disturb her?" whispered Peter.

"Of course," said Edmund.

"But how best to do it?" pondered Lucy.

All three smirked.

They noiselessly crept up to the tree, skirting around it so as not to wake Susan. Peter reached up and hauled himself into the lower branches with all the grace of a rhinoceros in its last moments, his booted feet scrabbling against the bark before he finally managed to heave himself up high enough. He shot a heated glare down at Edmund, who was snickering silently. Then he reached out to hoist Lucy up by her underarms, Ed helping by forming a step with his hands so that she could push off. When both Peter and Lucy were situated comfortably in the sturdy branches, surrounded by the white blossoms, Edmund jumped, grabbed hold a limb, and swung up stylishly to perch lightly next to them.

"Oh, shut up," muttered Peter.

"I wasn't saying anything," whispered Edmund, but he looked very self-satisfied. Lucy giggled as the three of them wormed their way over to rest just above where Susan lay sleeping. They all shared another naughty smile. Because of her hands, Lucy couldn't do much to help, but she could certainly appreciate the humor as her brothers pelted her sister with little pieces of tree debris. The limbs of the tree quivered as it rained loose bark and blossoms, until finally Susan shifted slightly and her eyes opened, blinking dully twice before her neck craned upwards.

Her next expression was quite possibly more wrathful than any of Zale's.

It was arguably unfortunate that they were laughing too hard to appreciate this, for a few seconds later she picked up a small pebble and chucked it straight up at them. While it did not actually hit Edmund, it hit near enough him that he screamed, faltered, and came crashing down out of the tree to land in an undignified mess on the floor for the second time that day. He scrambled away from Susan, who was looking fit to kill as she clawed things out of her hair and brushed them off her skirts with a vengeance.

"Lucy, come down from there," she growled when she realized there was nothing more she could do.

"But I can't," said Lucy truthfully, looking as innocent as possible.

"Then at least push Peter down," said Susan, and she sounded quite serious. Lucy shrugged, then leaned over to jab an elbow into her surprised brother's side. He gave a yelp to rival Ed's, but unlike his brother managed to hold on so that he dangled a few feet above the ground instead of falling the whole way. Of course, this left him entirely exposed to the rest of his family. Susan wasted no time in tickling his stomach until he was forced to let go, and he plummeted onto the grass on top of Edmund, who bellowed furiously and attempted to shove him off, to no avail. Susan held out her arms invitingly, and with completely trust Lucy let herself slip from the tree. She fell several feet before Susan caught her and they both toppled over onto the lawn, her weight too much for her sister to bear, and the next second their brothers had scrambled over to crush them all in a tight hug.

Sandwiched between her siblings, Lucy smiled contentedly and wrapped her arms around whoever was nearest.

_It really is good to be home._


End file.
